


Someone You'd Admire

by Oodles



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Light Fantasy, M/M, Slow Burn, wing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-10-24 12:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10741791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oodles/pseuds/Oodles
Summary: After a certain age, the Royals of Dōwā sprout wings. No one knows why, least of all Jean Otus.





	1. Chapter 1

Jean peeks around the corner of the bookshelves to check if anyone is in his window seat. The coast is clear and he sidles over to the glass as if he might ask it out on a date, poorly so. Rather than risk rejection, he sits on the sill and sets his bag on the floor. First, he’ll get the homework that he doesn’t mind out of the way, then he’ll head home and tackle the stuff he doesn’t want to do. That way, when it’s over, it’s  _ all  _ over and he can experience the evening properly– tea, and a cigarette.

Three chapters of A Tale of Two Cities flies by and Jean sees a pale yellow dress through the window. Lotta is on her way up to meet him from the middle school. There is a boy by her side. A much older boy. One Jean has never seen before. He’s kind of leggy and walks with one hand in his pocket, easy smile, eyes on the pathway ahead of them. Through the window he looks like he could be ten years Jean’s senior and Jean immediately puts his book away and, as calmly as he can, rushes to the front door to intercept. Lotta is a good kid. They’ve been through enough together.

Pushing open the door, Lotta’s laughter fills the air. She turns to Jean and beams. 

“Hi,” she gives a wave. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Jean nods and turns to stare at the boy. Up close, he looks a bit younger. It’s the glasses, and maybe the camera hanging around his neck. Jean is no longer sure how old he is. “You made a new friend?”

Lotta shrugs. “He was looking for the library and I was already headed here, so I showed him the way. His name is Nino.”

The guy holds his hand out to Jean. “Nice to meet you. Your sister is a good tour guide.”

Jean takes Nino’s hand. “Yeah.”

“I’m starting here tomorrow,” Nino goes on. “Just wanted to get acquainted with the campus.”

“Ah,” Jean nods. “Sure. If we weren’t headed out, I’d offer to show you around.”

“Not a problem,” Nino says. “I won’t stop you. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

“It’s a small school,” is all Jean says. “Bye.”

He walks past, and Lotta turns to follow him, but not before looking over her shoulder and calling out, “Goodbye!” 

As they cross the campus green to the parking lot, Lotta pulls on Jean’s arm. “You’re so mean.”

“What?” Jean looks at her. “I wasn’t being mean.”

She raises her eyebrow. “So cold. There’s ice on your shoulders.”

Jean looks down at his own jacket. “I don’t see any.”

“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re so literal. Are we going to stop at the bakery?”

“Yeah,” Jean says. “Of course.”

As they hit the sidewalk, Lotta’s gait switches up to something a little more bouncy. “Have you heard about the prince? They say his wings are starting to show.” 

Jean nods. “Yeah, the internet is quite excited about it.”

She checks her phone, scrolling through Twitter. “We’re waiting to see pictures.”

“I hear it’s a bloody mess at first. Very painful.”

Her face drains. “Really?”

Jean nods. “Oh yes. Imagine pushing bones out of your back. Takes days to get the red stains out of the feathers.”

“Ew, Jean!” she shudders. “I don’t want to know that!”

He gives her a small smile. “I have no idea, Lotta. They’re very hush-hush about the whole situation. For all I know it’s an easy little thing. Maybe it feels nice, like stretching out sore muscles.”

“I prefer that much more,” she says, nodding her head. “They’re royalty. They have enough to worry about.”

Jean doesn’t say anything to that, least of all that he isn’t entirely sure what the royal family actually does day to day, other than provide entertainment to the nation. Lotta should be allowed the simple pleasures of following along with the developments of the prince. It’s harmless at this point. 

“What kind of person do you think he’ll marry?” she asks. “I bet she’ll be beautiful.”

“I think that’s the one thing we can guarantee,” Jean says. 

 

 

The bakery smells like paradise. Freshly baked bread. Lotta and Jean step inside and both take a deep breath, hold it, let it out with a sigh. 

Home away from home. 

The baker hands them their order. Jean offers to pay, but she smiles and declines, sending them off with fresh loaves. 

The same as every week for the last year.

 

 

Jean spots that Nino kid the next day with his eyes on a map of the school in his left hand, and his own schedule in his right. Nino comes to a stop in the middle of the hall and blinks pointedly at the papers. Jean keeps walking. Someone bumps his shoulder as he goes, sending him off balance and into a locker. He sighs, straightens up and finds Nino looking at him.

“You okay?” he asks. 

Jean nods. “It takes more than a locker to break me.”

Nino holds his papers out toward Jean. “Mind helping me for a minute?”

Jean shakes his head and takes the schedule from Nino’s hand. A quick glance confirms that they are headed to the same class. “This way.”

They maneuver through the throngs of people, like salmon swimming upstream, until Jean opens the door to their English class. Nino gives a quick salute as he walks past.

“Of course we have the same class. Kind of freaky, huh?”

Jean shrugs. “Coincidence hasn’t really served me in the past.”

“The stoic type, I see.” Nino chuckles. “Let’s call it a happy accident then.”

Jean stares at him for a moment, trying to read the mellow attitude and the subtly expressive face. Is he trying to be friends with Jean, or just friendly? Either way… 

“I usually sit by the window,” Jean says, entering the classroom. “In case you want to sit next to someone familiar.”

“Appreciated,” Nino remarks, sounding genuinely interested. He gestures forward. “After you.”

They sit at adjacent desks. At one point, Jean conducts an experiment. He lets his pen roll off the side of the desk, and Nino swoops down to pick it up for him immediately, holding it out with no annoyance in his eyes. In fact, some might consider his expression to be amiable.

Jean thanks him quietly. He takes ununusally light notes. Nino doesn’t take any notes at all, just stares at the head of the classroom thoughtfully, chin on his fist. He looks– not quite bored, but if there was a friendlier version of it. Amused? Jean can’t place it. 

Perhaps that this is second nature to him. 

Nino is in Jean’s advanced English class, his advanced government class and his advanced Latin class. While Jean is in his advanced math class, Nino is somewhere else. Jean wonders if that camera around his neck is any indication. 

Nino is consistently and inexplicably friendly to Jean at every turn. They share a lunch period every other day due to their slightly differing schedules, and after a week, Nino asks if he can sit with Jean, setting his tray down on the table. 

Jean looks up from his book and his food and asks, “is there something you need from me?”

Nino raises an eyebrow. “What would I need from you?”

Jean shrugs. “Notes? Papers?” He furrows his brow and tilts his head. “Cigarettes?”

With a laugh, Nino takes a seat across from Jean. “Smoking is pretty bad for you, you know?”

Jean nods. “So they say.”

“The answer is no,” Nino says. “I don’t need anything. I just don’t know anyone here.”

“There are far more interesting people, if you’re looking for a friend,” Jean answers, and Nino looks surprised. 

He scratches his head, adjusts his glasses. “You really believe that, huh?”

Jean glances past Nino at all the other students. “I’ve been told I’m rather boring. And stuck up. And a rule follower.”

“Except for the cigarettes, right?” Nino asks, cheek resting on his hand, stabbing a fork into his pasta. “That’s a filthy habit.”

Jean unwraps his own lunch from the paper bag, unveiling the sandwich within like some kind of treasure. And it is, the bread so damn perfect. “Luckily, I don’t play sports.”

“Why not?” Nino asks. 

“Back pain,” Jean says. “Bothered me for the last two years. Sports are a no-go.”

“What’s your extracurricular?” Nino asks, and Jean is still baffled by the audible interest in Nino’s voice. Almost like he means it.

Jean picks up his sandwich, raising it up to his mouth. “Choir.”

“No kidding,” Nino says. “You any good?”

“Apparently,” Jean says. “They would have kicked me out by now if I weren’t.”

“Fair,” Nino concedes. “This place is pretty cutthroat.”

Jean nods. “It’s okay, though. Once I get to university, things will be easier.”

Nino nods, and doesn’t push against the accidental confession in Jean’s remark. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too. Living on your own, right?”

“Yeah,” Jean says, grateful for the subject change, even though he is lying to Nino. Whatever they have has not quite earned a full commitment to honesty from Jean’s perspective. A few white lies are acceptable at this stage. 

Nino points his fork at Jean’s sandwich. “Looks pretty good.”

“You can’t have any,” Jean says, taking a large bite.

Another full-bodied chuckle from Nino. “Damn.”

 

 

A week later, they’ve had lunch together at every opportunity. Neither one asks, they just find the other in the dining hall and start a conversation. Nino asks a few times after Lotta, and Jean shuts him down, concerned that  _ this _ is the reason they are dining together. But it doesn’t seem to bother Nino. He moves on gracefully to another subject, until he learns to drop it entirely. 

Graceful is a good word for Nino. He walks and talks with grace, nothing seeming to bother him. The camera around his neck, and sometimes the chunky headphones around his neck add to that, like he belongs anywhere. The only thing that marrs the aura is the uniform of the school. Jean can tell that it causes discomfort when Nino rolls his neck or adjusts the sleeves of his button-up shirt, almost like he’s wearing it a size too small. 

Jean asks Nino about his study habits. Nino scratches his chin, giving a considerate expression. 

“I don’t really study,” he admits. 

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Jean responds. 

“I’m open to suggestions, though,” Nino goes on. “If you have good methods.”

Jean packs up his backpack, the bell for the end of class screaming through the halls. “I suppose I do.”

“If you want to teach me,” Nino says, leaving the sentence open. 

“Sure,” Jean says, knowing full well that he’s started to trust this guy. He is about to ask if Nino wants to meet at the library when Nino cuts in.

“There’s a great bookstore in town. Got a cafe and all. Friday afternoon?”

Jean blinks. Hanging out? He’s so busy, but on Friday’s there is some time between school and work. God, Lotta will tease him endlessly. 

“Sure,” Jean says. “Bring flashcards.”

Nino nods, smiling. “You got it.”

 

 

Jean stops at home on Friday before he meets up with Nino. He takes his uniform off and stares at the contents of his closet. He knows clothing can make an impression, and he wonders what impression he should try to leave. Jeans? Chinos? Corduroys? For a moment, he considers asking Lotta for an opinion. Then he remembers that Nino isn’t clay and has probably already formed his own thoughts, and whatever Jean wears will probably not alter that so much. 

Black cords and a navy sweater win out. As he gathers his things into his backpack, Lotta comes to lean in the doorway of his room. 

“Whatcha doing?” her voice is innocent enough. 

“I’m meeting someone to study for an upcoming test,” Jean says. 

Her eyes bug out. “Jean! What? Oh my goodness!”

“It’s not a big deal,” he quickly tries to end her building excitement. “I promise. He just asked for help.”

Her shoulders jump up and she puts on her best innocent face. “Right, right, no big deal. What’s his name?”

“If you finish all your homework tonight, I’ll tell you,” Jean says, shouldering his backpack and walking by her. “And I’m going to look over it.”

She sighs, but she is still smiling. “Deal.”

“Are you going to be alright by yourself for a while?” he asks. 

Lotta puts both hands on Jean’s back and starts pushing him toward the door. “Go, I’ll be fine, don’t be late!”

Jean asks her one more time as she guides him to the door whether or not she’ll be okay. She shoves him out into the hall, waves and calls, “bring me a present!”

Jean has to smile, in spite of the random cluster of butterflies that have taken up residence in his stomach.  _ It’s not a big deal _ , he repeats. Just studying. 

Never mind the fact that he hasn’t hung out with anyone outside of school in years. 

Ever. 

It’s fine.

The bookstore is only five minutes away and Jean is thankful for their apartment in the city and that the landlord lets them stay there, on the condition that Jean lends him a hand from time to time. He still has to pay a little, which he scrapes from his weekend job at the local convenience store. With everything he does, Jean feels like a zombie shambling through life. People call him inconsiderate. He’s just tired. 

When he gets to the store that Nino described, he immediately understands why Nino would like a place like this. Something about it is as cool as Nino. The kind of place where a guy could spend hours staring at coffee table books containing beautiful photographs of cityscapes. The kind of place where you order expensive coffee even if you don’t like the taste. 

Nino is at a table tucked away in a corner of the store with his bag on the floor by his feet, and his camera up to his face. 

Jean makes eye contact with the lens and hears a click. A photo immediately prints out and Nino starts shaking it back and forth. 

“Some people say cameras will steal your soul,” Nino says, like he’s trying to rile up Jean.

Jean is immediately more concerned by the fact that there isn’t a chair to sit across from Nino, but merely a spot on the couch next to him. His back aches, so he sits anyway. Nino tosses the photograph down on the table. Jean’s face starts to develop, color giving way to what appears to Jean as the face of a lifeless husk. 

“Nice,” Nio says. “You have a good face for a camera.”

Jean makes a soft sound of disbelief. “You would know, I suppose.”

“That’s right, I’ve got an eye for this thing. You’re better off taking my word for it.” 

“Well… studying?” Jean offers.

Nino smiles. “If you insist.”

He’s got on a black v-neck, jeans, and chunky black motorcycle boots. This is clearly his preferred uniform. He looks even more at ease, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Jean starts to unpack his things and lay them out on the table. Nino smiles. 

“What university are you aiming for?”

Jean skims a hand over the top of his notebook. “Bādon University.”

“Of course,” Nino says. “Prestigious. What are you hoping to study?”

“Truthfully,” Jean begins, much to his own surprise. “I’m not sure.”

“But whatever it is, you’ll be studying hard,” Nino says, not mocking him at all. There is encouragement in his blue eyes, some kind of friendliness that hasn’t had enough time to develop. Jean wants to stare, to figure out whether or not it’s real. This person is too good to be true. 

“What do your parents think?” Nino asks, as any stranger might. 

Jean turns his gaze to the books, thumb tracing the letters of the title. “No parents.”

“Ah,” Nino nods. He scratches his head, messing up his hair for a moment, before letting to fall back into its place. Even in its strange untamed state, there is some kind of proper order to the chaos. “Me neither,” he says after a moment.

Jean’s eyes widen just slightly. His gaze cuts to Nino, and the wistful smile on his face. A smile that belongs on a man much older. Someone who understands how to process grief, and turn it into something that makes you smile. Memories are set into his eyes, things that he has chosen to hold onto. When he looks at Jean again, for some reason, Jean feels like he belongs beside this kid. 

_ This _ is the reason they are sitting here. 

Nino is smart enough to see it in Jean. 


	2. Chapter 2

Nino doesn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t need to. Afterwards, Jean finds himself listening to Nino a little closer. The study session devolves pretty quickly into a regular conversation, as if they were back in the dining hall. Their talk wanders aimlessly and it doesn’t bother Jean in the slightest. There is a comfort in knowing they don’t have to have a point. Jean’s phone alarm goes off 30 minutes before his shift, and he realizes he’S already spent three hours with Nino.

“Date?” Nino asks, gesturing to Jean’s phone.

Jean shakes his head. “Work. But thank you.”

Nino’s head tilts into a question. 

Jean starts packing his things up. “For assuming I could get one.”

 

 

Work goes surprisingly quickly. Before he knows it, Jean is walking through the door back home and Lotta smiles at him from the kitchen. 

“How was your day?” she asks in a sing song voice. She’s got the kettle going. 

Jean puts his things down by the table, slides his jacket off and takes a seat. “It was… a good day.”

Two mugs of earl grey– two thirds water one third milk, just how their mother would always take her tea– served beside a loaf of sugary bread. Jean stares into his cup, stirring lazily. 

“Nino,” he admits. 

Lotta pats Jean’s free hand. “I knew he was important.”

Jean levels his gaze at Lotta. 

She tries to look serious. “What? Sometimes, maybe, things do happen for a reason.”

Jean gives in to a tired smile. “A nice thought.”

She grins back at him. “You should let yourself have nice thoughts more often. Maybe Nino will be good for that.”

Jean chuckles, and Lotta looks delighted. Things aren't always so hard for them.

 

 

The next time they are together, Nino asks again about Lotta. 

“How’s your sister?” he tries, because he must know things are different now. 

Jean nods. “She’s trying to teach herself how to cook more elaborately. Keeps asking if we can entertain people. Do you want to brave it sometime?”

Nino straightens up, pleasant surprise lighting up his face. “I’ve always been a thrill seeker, Jean.”

 

 

They decide that Nino will join Lotta and Jean for dinner on a Wednesday evening. Lotta claps when Jean tells her.  _ I’ll do my absolute best! You have to get something special from the bakery! Make sure he’ll come back. _

Jean uses his free period at school to walk down to the bakery and pick up sandwich bread that Lotta can be proud of. 

“Ah, Jean,” the baker says with a smile. “Not your usual order, I see.”

“We’re entertaining,” he tells her, pulling his wallet out. 

She shakes her head and hands him the bag. “Well my reputation is on the line. You can have this one today. Get me a new customer and it’ll pay off for me.”

“Thank you,” he says, not bothering to fight. He knows she won’t let him pay, not when she’s in an upbeat mood like this. “I’ll give him the hard sell.”

She smiles, painfully kind. “I know I can count on you, Jean.”

As he is walking back to campus, he takes a chance and lights a cigarette. Heat and smoke fill his lungs. Like a lot of his habits, this one began exactly 14 months and 8 days ago. He’d spent twenty four hours chilled to the bone, and found a box of cigarettes in his father’s closet. Smoking brought feeling back into his body, and the wracking coughs at the first puff made him feel ridiculous. Lotta came running into the room, worried he was choking. Sitting hunched over by the open window, Jean looked up at her with a smile. 

She’d blinked. “Jean. What are you doing?”

He looked at the cigarette, considering it. “Dad was a smoker. Do you think mom made fun of him?”

Lotta had given a small laugh before collapsing into tears. That laugh was enough.

Jean passes by an alleyway and stops to ash the cigarette. He hears an echo of someone’s voice and glances over to see two silhouettes. One of them is up against the wall and the other has a hand anchored beside the first one’s head– intimidation at its finest. Jean stares until the faces take shape. Judging from the white button-up shirts, they are fellow students. The one doing the intimidating has stick-straight blond hair and a lean build, and the kid against the wall is puny even compared to the thin boy. 

“All you have to do is say I was with you, and no one will get in trouble,” the blond kid is saying. 

“Come on, Rail, I don’t want to lie to anyone,” the other kid whines.

Jean ambles over, feigning nonchalance, bag of bread in one hand, cigarette in the other. Both of the boys glance over at the sound of his footsteps. The blond narrows his eyes. 

“Get out of here,” Rail says. “We’re doing fine.”

The other kid just stares.

Jean walks right up to the blond and blows smoke in his face. “I don’t see fine anywhere.”

Rail’s face is strained with the effort of trying to stay cool, but he winds up hunched over and coughing. Not many people are used to cigarette smoke. The other kid hesitates, but Jean inclines his head back toward the street. “Go on.”

He takes off, not quite running, but in a hurry to rid himself of the situation. 

The blond kid gets in Jean’s face. “What the hell?” Jean exhales at him again and the kid reels back. “Knock it off!”

“What are you trying to get out of?” Jean asks. 

Rail glares from a safe distance. “Nothing that concerns you.”

“Why are you trying to scare that kid?”

Rail balls his hands up into fists. “What, do you think you’re some kind of cop?”

“I’m not a cop any more than you’re a bully,” Jean says. “So we should both stop pretending.”

“What do you know?” blond kid asks. 

Jean lifts the cigarette up and sees that it’s burned down. He sighs. “Wasted.”

“Whatever,” Rail mumbles, arms crossed. 

“Freshman, right?” Jean asks.

The kid doesn’t respond, just sizes Jean up. It’s not anger in his eyes at all. 

“So. Three more years to figure out what you’re talented at. I can tell you that it’s not this,” Jean says, gesturing forward. 

The kid sighs, shoulders dropping. “I just don’t want to get in trouble. I swear this isn’t a regular thing. Can you just keep it to yourself?”

“Sure,” Jean says. “Just promise you won’t pick up any bad habits.”

The kid furrows his brow, gaze dropping to the cigarette butt hanging limp in Jean’s fingers. “Pot calling the kettle–”

“Bye,” Jean says, turning away. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Jean can’t see it, but he’s 98% sure that the kid is rolling his eyes at Jean’s back. Still, Jean is also 98% sure that he won’t see that kid in any back alleys again. 

Not that it’s his job. 

 

 

The butterflies are back. Jean sets the table an hour early while waiting for Nino to arrive. Lotta is humming along to her music in the kitchen and the sound is rather lovely, but it doesn’t ease the nerves. Jean reminds himself that being around Nino is easy, and that he has no reason to stress, but for some reason this feeling never fails to build up right before he knows he’s going to see Nino again. He plays solitaire to pass the time, not wanting to get up from the table on the off chance that Nino gets there early.

A knock at the door sounds, right at the appointed time, and Jean straightens up. Lotta shuts off the music. 

“What a lovely place,” Nino remarks when Jean opens the door for him. He’s got a small thin box tied with a ribbon tucked under his arm. 

Jean steps aside and Nino enters, taking everything in. He sets the box down on the dining table and smiles at the room, apparently liking what he sees. Jean doesn’t think much of their apartment, just one of the many in the building, top floor or no. The nicest thing about it is the roof access. 

When Nino faces Jean again, he nods a few times. “You need more photographs in here.”

Jean considers this, eyeing up the blank space on the walls. “I suppose that’s not a bad idea.”

“Yes yes yes,” Lotta calls from the kitchen. She steps into the room, oven mitts still on. “Nino! You’re a photographer, right? You can do it!”

Nino shakes his head. “Nah, the camera’s for show. Never has any film in it.”

“Hm,” she shakes her oven mitt at him and  _ tsks _ . “You’re not a very good liar.”

Nino gives a low laugh. “My mistake. I should never try to fool a woman.”

Now she points at him. “Don’t be sexist. Now sit. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Nino bows a little. “Thank you, Lotta. You know I’m teasing, right?”

“Of course!” she says brightly, bouncing back into the kitchen. Jean and Nino sit on opposite sides of the table, perhaps habit by this point– their minds stuck in the dining hall.

Nino bridges his fingers together, focus back on Jean. “You have a rather contemplative look on your face.”

Jean raises his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“More so than usual,” Nino clarifies. “Did something fascinating happen while we were apart?”

“Well.” Jean relays the scene with the kid, Rail. “He doesn’t seem like the bullying type.”

“Who does?” Nino asks. “So I can be sure to avoid them.”

“You’ll know when you see,” is all Jean says. 

“Mm,” Nino nods. “I’ll keep an eye out. But you’re sure Rail won’t be a problem anymore?”

“I can’t be sure of anything,” Jean admits. “But I know what I’d like to happen.”

Nino  _ hmm _ s at Jean as Lotta steps out with a large dish in her hands, setting it down on a cork trivet on the table between the boys. “Voila!” 

The smell of tomato and cheese fills the air. Nino sighs and takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Lotta.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet,” she says, taking her seat beside Jean. “You have to tell me how it is, and I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Nino nods, a grave look coming over his face. “Only honesty from here on out.”

“That’s more like it,” she says. “Jean, serve us.”

The meal is great, especially served with a slice of fresh bread. Lotta asks Nino many questions, from the innocent  _ do you like sandwich bread,  _ to more probing questions about his background until Jean tells her that this isn’t an interrogation and she should let the man breathe. Nino, of course, doesn’t seem to mind at all. As they talk and eat, Jean finds himself absently smiling at his food. It feels good to have one more body at the table. A bit more like home. Nino fills the space nicely, arm draped over the back of the empty chair beside him. 

Everything is going smoothly, until a spark of pain ignites down Jean’s spine. He straightens up and makes a quiet noise.

“Jean,” Lotta says, touching his arm. “You okay?”

He nods, testing out his muscles with a stretch. “Do you mind grabbing me some pain killers?”

She jumps to her feet and rushes into the kitchen. She calls out, “Is it getting worse? Do you need to lie down? How many pills do you want?”

Jean takes a deep breath, gaze drifting to Nino’s face. He thinks perhaps Nino is hiding some stress in the muscles of his jaw. 

“Two,” Jean responds. 

Lotta hurries back with a glass of water and two large white pills which she drops into Jean’s open palm. Jean swallows them down and takes a deep breath to steady himself. Lotta hovers nervously by the edge of the table, hugging her arms to her chest. Nino has leaned forward just a little, gaze jumping back and forth between Jean’s eyes. 

“Back spasms,” Jean explains. “They started about two years ago.”

“You okay?” Lotta asks and Jean has a brief flashback to their mother running her fingers through his hair. 

He nods, even though the pain has not subsided. He doesn’t enjoy the attention. Well, perhaps that’s not exactly correct. Nino’s face has relaxed, but his shoulders are still tense, like he’s been shocked. Concern is not the emotion Jean wants to elicit from Nino, but it’s still oddly comforting to see it nestled in the lines between his eyes. Jean turns his head to Lotta, keeping his back straight, and manages a calm smile. 

“Everything’s okay,” he assures her. “It’s not a bad one.”

She breathes out a sigh. “Thank goodness. It’s so weird for it happen out of the blue like this.” She flops down onto her chair, relieved. 

“Sorry,” Jean says, looking back at Nino.

He shakes his head. “Don’t mind me. Just a concerned citizen.”

“I’ll be alright. Perhaps it’s just a sign that I need to get some rest,” Jean says, disappointed that he has to give this excuse. The choice is to ignore the pain to keep Nino around, or take the proper measures to tamp it down. Despite what he’s said, it feels like it will only get worse if he doesn’t do something about it. 

“That’s for the best,” Nino agrees. “Someone doesn’t keep a schedule like yours easily. Maybe it’s stress?” 

“Perhaps,” Jean says. “Thanks for coming, Nino.”

The other boy stands and pushes his chair in. “It was wonderful. Thanks to both of you.”

Lotta sees him to the door, sticking her head out into the hall to continue calling out things to him, like  _ thank you _ and  _ you’re welcome whenever you like _ and  _ we had a lovely time! _ When she shuts the door, Jean lets out his breath and begins the arduous task of trying to stand up. Lotta goes and offers her arm, which he takes gratefully. 

“Oh, Jean,” she sighs. “It  _ is _ bad, isn’t it?”

The effort to lie is too much. “I just want to sleep.”

Her mouth sets into a line. “You don’t have to lie just because you have a friend around.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jean says, hobbling toward his room. 

She sighs, resignation evident on her face. “Well I just hope this doesn’t mean you’ll stop hanging out with him. I think he’s cool.”

Jean chuckles as Lotta opens the door to his bedroom. Cool. Yeah. He eases down onto his bed and Lotta waits for him to settle down before she stops frowning. 

“Better?” she asks.

He nods. 

“Oh. What was that box that Nino brought?”  

“Open it and find out,” Jean says, eyes sliding shut. 

Lotta leaves the room, and Jean listens to her bare feet quietly treading over the hardwood floor. A moment later, a squeak. “Chocolate!”

Jean chuckles. 

_ He’s good. _


	3. Chapter 3

Jean feels raw the next day. Any time a spasm occurs, even if the intense pain leaves him, his muscles still feel stiff and sore. He has to force himself to school despite it, and he won’t smoke in front of Lotta so he can’t even mentally unwind from it. Every step is a little jolt in his back. Lotta asks him again if he’ll be okay as she turns toward the middle school. He does his best to send her off without worry. 

Nino is waiting for him at the main entrance, and he looks Jean up and down, frowning. “It got worse after I left?”

“I’ll be alright,” Jean answers. 

“Very evasive of you,” Nino says and casually pulls Jean’s backpack off, shouldering it himself. “I’ll take this.”

Jean doesn’t fight. They’re going to the same class anyway. 

 

Choir is particularly hard on him, standing with perfect posture for an hour. Atoli, Moz, and Kelly are in high spirits though. Kelly brought donuts and the three have their eyes on the box for the entirety of the session. When they are released from their places, the girls swarm the box and divvy up their treats. 

“Chief!” Atoli calls, and Jeans turns to her. He’s not sure anymore when that joke started, but that’s what they call him. “You want one?”

Jean shuffles forward, tired of hiding the pain. “I’m alright, thank you. But maybe I could take one for Lotta?”

Moz pulls all the donuts out of the bag, leaving one, and hands it to Jean. “Of course! Tell her we say hello!”  

“Thank you,” he says, accepting the bag. 

“Are you excited for our trip next week?” Kelly asks, powdered donut in her hand. 

Jean nods. “Of course. It’s always nice to see other districts.”

“He sounds so diplomatic,” Atoli whispers to Moz.

Moz smiles. “He should work for the government one day.”

“An ambassador!” Kelly suggests.

The girls giggle. Jean takes his backpack by the strap, not bothering to put it on his shoulders and risk more pain. When he steps back into the hall, Nino is there. He takes Jean’s without question and starts down the hall. 

“How was your newspaper meeting?” Jean asks, falling into step. 

Nino shrugs. “Not much going on these days.”

“Is that why you left early?” Jean ventures, glancing at Nino. 

“Yeah,” Nino says. “Definitely didn’t sneak out.”

Jean almost laughs. They head to the library and take a table far from the door. Nino leans back, feet up on the chair beside him, and starts messing with his camera while Jean lays out his homework. They keep quiet, save for the occasional snap of Nino taking a picture. Jean senses more than sees that the camera is aimed at him and he fights back a smile. Nino pointing a camera at him has become its own form of communication these days. A reminder–  _ I see you _ ,  _ we’re friends _ ,  _ that okay?  _ Jean does his best to ignore the click of the shutter, as usual.

It’s still strange to him, but this presence feels good. 

“Jean,” Nino whispers, as even an empty library demands quiet. 

“Hm?” Jean touches his finger to the paragraph he was reading and looks up at Nino. 

“Do you like movies?” 

The question catches him off guard. “I suppose,” he answers. 

Nino chuckles. “Haven’t really thought about it, have you?” 

Jean shakes his head. 

“This Saturday, when do you get off work?” 

“Around 9:30,” Jean says. 

“Perfect,” Nino decides. “I’ll pick you up. My date cancelled on me.”

“Not much of a date, then?” Jean ventures. 

“Nah,” Nino says, eyes back on his camera. “I just wanted to see the movie. I don’t like going alone.”

“Terrible,” Jean says. 

“Then why are you smiling?” Nino asks. 

Jean concentrates harder on the book in front of him. “Ah, I just remembered a bad joke, that’s all.”

Nino laughs. “Good timing.”

 

It’s raining on Saturday. Jean stands outside the doors of the convenience store, umbrella in hand. His coworker, Knot, huddles beside him.

“Thanks, Jean,” he says. “My mom should be here soon.”

“Not a problem,” Jean tells him. “If my ride gets here first, you can take the umbrella.”

“Ah, a ride?” Knot perks up. “You never have plans after work. Date?”

A date with Nino. Jean laughs. “Just a movie with a friend.”

“Sounds like a date,” Knot says. “I wish I had a date tonight. All I have is a paper due Monday.”

“I’m sure you’d get one if you just asked,” Jean says. “People like you.”

Knot puts a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “You know, people are wrong about you.”

Jean smiles. He thinks of Nino, who sees right through him. “Not always.”

A car pulls up in front of them, and the window rolls down. An older woman with an echo of Knot’s face leans out and waves. Knot thanks Jean again and rushes over. Jean checks his phone for the time– 9:40. He doesn’t mind waiting.

A few minutes later, the red line bus pulls up to the stop half a block down. Jean hears a distant voice and looks over to see Nino hanging out the door. “Hey!”

Jean heads over. He steps onto the bus and shakes off his umbrella. 

“This isn’t what I had in mind when you mentioned picking me up.”

“What do you mean?” Nino gestures behind him. “I brought you a whole bus.”

Nino pays Jean’s fare. They sit side by side, Jean in the window seat. “Sorry, I don’t like taking my bike out in the rain. Some people get nervous on motorcycles when it’s like this,” Nino explains. 

“A motorcycle?” Jean asks. 

“Are you surprised?” Nino asks. 

“Not at all,” Jean answers. “The boots make more sense now.”

Nino slouches down and rests his knees against the back of the empty seat in front of them. He slaps the side of his boot. “Love these things. I’m trying to keep them for as long as I can. Promise, you’ll see me in ten years with the same pair.”

“I’ll eat my hat,” Jean says. 

“You don’t even own a hat,” Nino asks. 

“Which is why it’s a safe bet.” 

 

The movie is an artsy, limited release thing, playing in a small theater which Nino claims is his favorite, the kind that only has two screens.

“What is that phrase?” Jean wonders aloud as they find their seat. “Manic pixie something?”

Nino pulls a face. “I take offense to that.” 

“Tell me you’re not into every small independent establishment in this town?” Jean challenges. “You even have blue hair. Fits the bill to me.”

“Oh, no– I’m not offended for myself,” Nino says, choosing a seat in the dead center of the theater. “I’m saying you’re not as much of an asshole as that implies. Manic pixies usually appear to kick the protagonist out of some kind of funk, y’know, some boring kind of guy that no one likes in the beginning.”

Jean sits beside Nino, bag of popcorn in hand. “How are you not describing me right now?”

Nino smiles. “Because I think readers would like you just fine. Now hush. The previews are coming on.”

They fall silent as a few advertisements play for movies that Jean has never heard of, but Nino consistently has opinions on.  _ I like that actor  _ or  _ not that director _ or  _ the special effects will be impressive.  _ Jean wonders how a guy has enough time on his hands to know so much. When the movie actually begins, Jean willingly lets himself fall into the story. Something quiet, subtle, smart. Even if the dialogue is a bit unrealistically witty, he appreciates the characters and the look of the film. 

At some point, Nino rests his hand on the back of Jean’s seat. Coming from anyone else, it might feel protective, possessive even. Nino makes it casual. Still, Jean dwells on it just a little. He can’t read Nino’s mind, after all. It makes the movie slightly harder to pay attention to. 

Even more so when Nino leans forward and whispers. “Can I steal some of that?”

Jean holds the bag of popcorn closer to him, but Nino shakes his head. “I don’t want to get butter on my hands.” Then he opens his mouth, eyes still on the screen. 

Jean hesitates, before picking out a single piece and offering it up to Nino. Jean is careful to hold it with the very tips of his fingers, so as not to risk touching Nino’s mouth. This is something he cannot process at the moment. Never in his life has he touched someone’s mouth. He’s never really considered it, but there is Nino, making him consider it. 

Nino accepts the popcorn, looking birdlike for a moment, long neck and all. Jean forces his eyes back to the screen.

Never in his life. 

But there is Nino.

 

 

When the movie is over the rain has stopped. 

“Can I ask you a favor?” Jean says outside the theater, looking up at Nino.

“Ask away,” Nino says, hands in his pockets. The glow of the marquee above them illuminates his ever-calm face. 

“I have that trip for choir this week,” Jean says. “I was hoping you could see Lotta while I’m gone? I hate to leave her alone.”

Nino smiles. “I’m honored. Don’t worry, I’ll feed her lots of sugar.”

Jean nods. “She’ll be thrilled.”

“Lotta is like the little sister I never had,” Nino admits. “Spoiling her is fun.”

A smile comes over Jean. This admission comforts him much more than it has any right to.

“Want me to walk you home?” Nino offers. “It’s dark out. Who knows what ruffians are hiding in the shadows.”

“I’ll be just fine, thank you,” Jean says. “Sometimes being alone has its perks.”

Nino concedes. “Then I’ll see you on Monday. Hope you had a good time.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Nino salutes and turns to walk the other way. Jean sets out for home, umbrella tucked under his arm. Lotta was ecstatic when he mentioned to her that he was going to see a movie with Nino. She said he would have to tell her everything about the movie, but when Jean thinks of it, only bits and pieces come back to him. He was distracted. As he is waiting for a crosswalk, he raises his right hand up and considers his popcorn scented finger tips. Nino asked for popcorn a total of four times, the latter three just a wordless request as he leaned forward toward Jean, mouth open. 

Jean puts his index finger in his mouth. Tastes like salt and butter and the memory of a pounding heart. 

 

Jean packs his bag the night before his field trip. They are set to leave right after class in order to get to Famasu that same night, and then will sing the next day for the local high school, a demonstration. Bādon Academy is famous for its art department. They are brought out to the other districts for performances each year, to set examples for the local students. As he folds a shirt, he wonders if Nino will be brought around to show off his photographs one day. 

“Bring me something good back,” Lotta instructs as Jean packs. She is seated cross-legged on his bed. “And no smoking.”

Jean nods. “Of course not.”

She huffs. “You and Nino. Such terrible liars.”

“I told Nino to keep you company,” Jean says. “I hope that’s alright.”

She claps her hands, ponytail bouncing. “Of course!”

“I’m glad you like him,” he says. 

“Me too,” she laughs. “I would hate to hate your friends.”

Jean smiles.

Lotta sighs. “I could marry a man like Nino.”

Jean pauses and looks at her, a sudden stiffness in his neck. “Perhaps he shouldn’t come by.”

She shrugs. “He’s obviously too old for me, but I can tell he’s a good guy. He’s better off with you, anyway. Oh! Jean! Have you seen the latest photo?”

She pulls up her phone and starts scrolling. Like a proud parent, she turns the screen to Jean. On it is a photo of Prince Schwann waving to some Dōwā admirer. The second photo is a shot of the Prince from behind, with two tasteful, thin cutouts in his shirt– openings for eventual wings. 

“They’re already anticipating,” Lotta says. “I’m so excited.”

“Are you excited for him to be King?” Jean asks, watching her face for a reaction.

She shrugs. “Well… I like the current King a lot. I hope he stays well enough to rule for a while longer.”

Jean zips up his suitcase, satisfied, and shoos Lotta off to bed. To him, it is no question that the Prince is not quite ready for the throne. When he hears her door shut, he steps out onto the roof for a smoke. Having their apartment on roof level has it’s advantages. 

The field trip comes back to him. Famasu is an agricultural district. Not much for the arts, but no one is bothered by it. They take pride in their work, like all of the districts. So much pride to be found in each little pocket of culture. 

The next day, Nino says goodbye and good luck to Jean after their last class together. 

“Be careful out there,” Nino says. “I know you’re the type who just can’t stay out of trouble.”

“That’s me,” Jean says. “A bad seed.”

“Through and through,” Nino says with a smile. 

“Come on, Chief!” Moz calls from down the hall. Jean goes after her, a knot in his stomach. 

 

The ride is a long one. By the end of it, Jean’s back is an aching mess. As he stretches in the parking lot of the inn they’re staying at, Atoli pats his shoulder. 

“Sorry Chief,” she says. 

“It’s alright,” he responds. “I’ll feel better after some rest.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to play cards with us?” Kelly asks. “Four players make it better”

Jean stares at the trio of girls. For a moment, he wonders how he missed this in the past. They’ve been inviting him to things for ages, since freshman year. They’re all juniors now and they’re still trying to include him.  _ What would Nino do?  _

“Sure,” Jean says. “What are we playing?”

The girls grin. They rope him into a round of crazy eights. He enjoys himself, for the most part, but he can’t help but think this would be better with Nino around. Nino probably likes poker, and probably always has something interesting to bet with. That being said, Jean knows he would be jealous if Nino got along too well with someone else. He does not know what Nino is interested in, but Jean could be replaced. In fact, Jean is slightly surprised that he hasn’t been already. 

Jean must have something that Nino is interested in.

“I win!” Moz yells at the end of the round and they all congratulate her. Jean excuses himself from the common room to sleep until they have to start their tour the next morning. He dreams of popcorn and the flash of cameras. His back feels a little better.

The Famasu school is humble, all on one story, and the visiting students are treated respectfully. Their tour guide is a girl named Eider who takes the time to point out and explain everything in detail. Jean, for some reason, is gradually pushed to the front until he is walking beside her. She seems delighted to have an audience in him. 

“We’re excited to have you here,” she says, smiling. “I remember you from last year.” Her face goes a little red. “Not  _ you _ specifically. I mean, I-I do remember you specifically, but that’s not what I meant. I meant to say the whole choir…”

“I knew what you meant,” Jean says, trying to soothe her embarrassment. “But thank you anyway. I remember you as well.”

Her face perks up. “Really?”

Jean nods. “Yes. Didn’t you have a solo at your demonstration?”

The girls are giggling quietly behind them. 

“Yes!,” Eider nods several times. “I’m sort of the only one who takes choir seriously. It must be nice going to a school that really pours their hearts into singing.”

“Maybe you could transfer to Bādon next year,” Jean says. 

“Oh.” She looks surprised. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”

Eider looks contemplative for the rest of the tour. She shows the group to the auditorium and excuses herself so the choir can practice. The girls flock to Jean and coo at him, “she’s cute, huh?”

Jean shrugs. “I suppose.”

They gasp in unison. Jean laughs to himself. They practice for about half an hour, warming up and going over their song list. When they are set to perform, Jean searches the crowd for a minute, wondering how funny it would be to see Nino here. Jean isn’t quite sure how he would do performing for Nino. Not that he thinks he’d do worse, but he wonders if he would be self conscious, or, perhaps, he’d do better.

Someone to impress.

Their performance goes smoothly, no noticeable mistakes. They are rewarded with enthusiastic applause as Eider stands up from her seat, the only one. Next, the Famasu choir gathers and gives their own performance, demonstrating a casual sort of talent, one that isn’t necessarily about hitting every technical note, but the kids look happy while they sing. Eider closes her eyes from time to time, when she’s really going for a sound. 

Afterwards, the Bādon kids join the Famasu kids for lunch. Eider sits among their group. The girls crowd around her and ask her questions, repeating every answer to Jean, even though he is sitting right next to them. Eider’s face deepens in shade with every question.  

“Eider,” Jean says at one point. “Is there a good place close by where I can pick up something sweet for my sister?”

“That’s so kind,” she mutters. “Uhm, yeah! It’s right in town, walking distance. I could… show you? I have a free period next.”

“Of course he’ll go,” the trio says, eyes wide. 

Jean doesn’t say no. 

The girls join Eider and Jean after lunch for the free hour before they have to leave for Bādon. Famasu is bright and warm. For a brief moment, Jean imagines himself going to school out here, walking these roads with Lotta, and maybe even Nino. That being said, Jean can’t picture Nino out of the city. Instinctively, Jean reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and remembers he didn’t bring them. Eider sees and quirks an eyebrow. 

“Are you looking for something?” she asks. 

Jean shakes his head. “Just a bad habit.”

Eider weaves her own fingers together in front of her. “Were you serious about me transferring? Do you think they’d accept me?”

“It never hurts to try,” Jean says. “I think you sing splendidly.”

Her face kind of goes blank before she recovers with, “ _ You _ do! It looks like it comes so naturally, like you don’t have to think about it at all.” Her blush is back. “I just wonder how you do it.” 

“Hm,” Jean scratches his chin in thought. “I have no idea.”

“You’re useless, Chief,” Atoli says from behind them.

“Yeah, I really am,” Jean admits with a smile. He sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re so talkative these days,” Kelly notes, tapping Jean’s head. “Your new friend really brings out the best in you.”

Jean considers this. He thinks, perhaps– yes, she is quite right. “I’ll pass along your compliment.”

The girls all nod. 

“He sure came out of nowhere,” Moz says. “But he’s such a cool guy. Too bad he’s a senior.”

“Yeah,” Jean agrees, hoping he doesn’t sound too sentimental. 

“Are you guys going to the unveiling ceremony for the Prince?” Eider asks. “I know only a few kids per school can attend.”

The girls all sigh behind Jean. Kelly sulks. “They’re releasing the list of the kids who made the cut next week. Jean almost definitely made it.”

“Oh!” Eider stares at him. “So I might see you there?”

“Well don’t speak too soon,” Jean says. “Even if I’m in good enough standing, I might not go if Lotta can’t be taken care of while I’m there.”

“Such a good big brother,” Eider says, eyes wide.  

When they get to the bakery, Jean picks up cupcakes for Lotta (and one for Nino) before returning to the bus, disappointing Atoli, Moz, and Kelly when he doesn’t give the mystery spare cupcake to Eider as a parting gift. 

Jean reads on the bus ride to distract himself from the stiffness in his back.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s late when Jean gets home, so he’s surprised to find Nino in the apartment with Lotta. They are on the couch– mugs in hand, eyes on the TV.

Lotta jumps to her feet when she sees Jean. “Hey! How was it? What did you bring?”

Jean sets the box of cupcakes on the dining room table and sits heavily. “See for yourself.”

She rushes over, Nino lazily following behind. Nino sets his mug down and leans both hands on the back of Jean’s chair. 

“You didn’t have to stay so late,” Jean says, leaning his head back to look at Nino.

Nino shrugs. “It wasn’t a problem at all.”

“Yeah, Nino spent the night so he could walk me to school and everything. He made me breakfast! He’s a good cook.”

Jean continues to stare at Nino, and Nino stares down at him. “Hope you don’t mind me using your room.” Nino’s voice is quiet.

Jean shakes his head. “Wish I had been there.” 

Nino raises an eyebrow. 

Jean swallows, realizing his poor choice of words. “For breakfast.”

“Another time,” Nino says with a smile.

“Cupcakes,” Lotta says, staring down at the box with hungry eyes. “Jean, do you want yours now?”

“It’s a bit late for cupcakes,” he starts to say, but then Nino pulls Jean’s chair onto its back two legs, leaning his face closer.

“Live a little,” Nino says. “People like a man who eats dessert past ten on a school night.”

Jean sighs. “Very persuasive.”

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Lotta claps her hands together. “Nino, get some plates.”

“Of course, your highness,” Nino says, setting Jean’s chair down and offering Lotta a small bow.

She laughs and waves at him. “Oh stop.”

“Never,” Nino says, eyes a bit full. 

Lotta boils more water for Jean and Nino sets out three plates. Nino takes one bite of a chocolate cupcake and chuckles.

“Mm, makes my teeth hurt. Very good.”

“You’re officially on a dessert tour of the country,” Lotta says, pointing her fork at Jean. “Diplomat of desserts.”

Nino leans his chin on his fist. “Ambassador of ambrosia?”

Lotta sticks her tongue out. “Emissary of… eclairs!”

“Prince of pastries,” Nino offers.

Lotta nods, taking another bite of her cupcake. “King of confections.”

“The rightful heir,” Nino agrees. 

Jean smiles, unable to hide it. “Glad to have my campaign managers doing such hard work.”

“Slogans are half the battle,” Nino says. 

Jean tries to respond, but cuts himself off with a yawn. Nino and Lotta give him doting smiles. 

“He’s tired,” Lotta says. 

“Bed time for the prince,” Nino declares. “It’s about time I head out anyway. Thank you, both of you.”

Lotta waves as he stands up and pushes his chair in. 

“Take care of yourself, Jean,” Nino adds quietly. 

“Thanks,” Jean responds. 

He and Lotta clean up quickly and Jean crawls back into bed, finally able to stretch out. As he burrows into his covers, Nino’s voice comes back to him.  _ Hope you don’t mind me using your room _ . Did he sleep in Jean’s bed?

Jean sits up for a moment, staring down at his pillows. A brief scan of the white pillow cases do not reveal any blue strands of hair. Perhaps Nino only meant that he borrowed the desk or something else. 

How does Nino sleep? Mummified, arms over the chest? Or completely spread out, taking up as much space as he can? Neat, staying to one side? No, Jean imagines he is the kind to adapt to whatever bed he is in and make the most of it. Jean flops down face first into the pillows. He takes a deep breath in, and for a brief moment, he thinks he can smell something different. Perhaps, though, his mind is merely playing tricks. He curls up around the pillow. 

A little pretending never hurt.

 

While Jean is in his math class, another teacher interrupts their lesson to ask Jean to gather his things and come to Mr. Owl’s office. Jean doesn’t question it, just slings his backpack over his shoulder and heads into the hallway. It’s the middle of a class period, and the school seems empty, save for the muffled voices coming from within the classrooms. As he passes, he peers into the small glass panels that border the doors. All manner of teachers stand at the heads of the their rooms. Students sit– taking notes, staring off into space, or trying to stealthily check their phones. 

It’s a reasonably-sized school, and Jean recognizes many of the students. He wonders how many of them recognize him.

Mr. Owl is the college counselor. His office has a few choice posters for prestigious universities around the country. Jean sets his bag down, a suspicion as to what this meeting is about.

“Jean,” Owl says. “Good to see you.”

Jean nods. “You as well. May I ask why you called me down?”

“Of course,” Owl sets his hands on the desk. “You have, unsurprisingly, been chosen for the trip to Dōwā for the Prince’s unveiling ceremony. As you know, Bādon sends around five junior and senior students each year to Dōwā for a tour of the grounds. You are consistently ranked as one of the top students in your year, so, naturally, we’d love for you to act as a student ambassador to the royal palace.”

_ Ambassador of ambrosia. _

Jean smiles unconsciously. Owl smiles back. “Is that a yes?”

“Uh– well, sir, it’s an honor to be chosen,” Jean begins. “My only concern is my sister. It’s an overnight trip, and I hate to leave her alone for very long.”

“We thought this might be a hesitation for you,” Owl says, voice all soothe. “So we’ve decided that she can join you, if you’d like.”

Jean blinks. “Really?”

“Yes,” Owl says. “Do you think she would enjoy the trip?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Jean says, slightly overwhelmed. Lotta at the royal palace seems like a natural fit. “I know she would.”

“Then, can we expect you in Dōwā?” Owl asks. 

Jean sets his hands in his lap, staring down. “I think so, yes.”

“Excellent news,” Owl makes a small pleased noise. 

“May I ask who else has been invited?” Jean says, looking back at Owl.

“We like to talk to everyone individually before letting the others know,” Owl says. “Wouldn’t want anyone to ruin the surprise, you see.”

Jean nods. “Yes, of course. Am I excused?” 

“Yes,” Owl stands up and Jean follows suit, offering to shake hands in thanks. Owl takes his hand firmly. “We’ve very proud of you Jean. You’re a model student. I can’t wait to see what lies ahead for you.”

“Thank you,” Jean says. 

He grabs his bag and heads back out. Owl has always been kind to Jean, even before he needed college counseling. He’s offered helpful advice since Jean was a freshman. It comforts Jean to know that Lotta will be able to go to Owl as well once Lotta starts high school. Jean can trust Owl.

 

After the last bell has rung, Jean finds Nino waiting at his locker. 

“Let me guess,” Nino says. “You got a special talk today?”

Jean nods. “How’d you know?”

“I got one too,” Nino says with a smile. “They want me to take photos.”

“Oh, good,” Jean says, relieved. “We’ll all be there. They’re going to let me bring Lotta, if she wants to go.”

Nino leans against the lockers behind him and gives a small low laugh. “Do you own a suit, Jean?”

Jean blinks at his books. “Hm…”

“So no,” Nino presumes. “And I have a feeling Lotta will ask for a dress.”

Jean touches his own face, mentally counting the money he’s slowly been saving up over the last year. “I think, maybe, I could rent a suit for a day? Maybe Lotta can find something at a second-hand shop.”

Nino puts a hand on Jean’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you guys out. We have to spoil Lotta, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Jean asks. “Does that mean you’ll take her shopping then?”

Nino chuckles. “Oh, no, no, no, if I have to go shopping for clothes, then you’re coming too.”

“What if I have work?” Jean asks.

“Mm mm.” Nino shakes his head. 

“Homework?” Jean tries.

“Absolutely not,” Nino answers. “Nothing will get you out of this trip.”

“Oh no,” Jean’s voice goes dead and he reaches over his shoulder. “My back… it suddenly hurts for no reason.”

“A rather cheap tactic, don’t you think?” Nino asks, arms folded over his chest. “You’d make us worry for you just to avoid a clothing store.”

“Ah, I can’t do that,” Jean admits. “That would be rude of me.”

“Very,” Nino agrees. “Now let’s kill time until the princess gets out of school. It’s a nice day out, maybe you could take a brief break from being a role model and take a walk with me.”

Jean nods. Nino scoops Jean’s backpack up and leads him outside. With an hour to kill, they start walking through the city until they find a pocket park and an unoccupied bench. Jean sits down, and Nino perches on the back of the bench beside him. 

“It’s okay,” Nino says, nudging Jean’s shoulder with his knee. “You can smoke.”

Jean doesn’t hesitate, just digs through his bag for a cigarette. He lights it and breathes deep, leaning his head back to exhale. A rush of warmth sweeps through him. 

“Got yourself a bad habit there, Jean,” Nino says, readying his camera. 

Jean glances at the cigarette perched between two of his fingers. “I suppose so. Funny, though, it never seems to bother me.”

“Your teeth aren’t even yellow,” Nino notes.

_ Have you been staring at my mouth? _

“Small blessings,” Jean says. 

Nino snaps a few photos of the park, and another few of Jean once his cigarette is ash on the ground. Nino tells a dirty joke to try to get Jean to laugh for a picture. Jean only laughs because it was a ridiculous attempt in the first place. 

“Reverse psychology,” Nino says, lowering the camera. “Works every time.”

The urge to smoke another cigarette fades. 

 

When they collect Lotta from the middle school and tell her the news, her whole face brightens like sunlight. 

“Jean! I’m so proud of you!” she wraps her arms around him. “What a good student. And Nino too, come here.”

Lotta pulls Nino closer, and he shakes his head with a smile, folding them both into a hug. Jean takes a deep breath, confirming that the scent on his pillow was, in fact, from Nino. 

“Oh my goodness,” Lotta breathes, breaking away. “What am I going to wear? None of my dresses are nice enough for the palace!”

Jean puts his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go find something for you.”

She claps her hands together, beaming. They head into the main shopping district and Lotta weaves in and out of shops, hunting through the aisles for something to wear. Nino and Jean trail a few feet behind at all times, poking harmless fun at some of the fashion on display. From time to time, Lotta stops and holds something out for the boys to appreciate. A sweater, or a hat. 

“You’re asking the wrong people,” Nino says, chuckling. 

Lotta pouts and moves on, mumbling about how they are terrible advisors. Once or twice, she attempts to get them to try something on and she is shut down on each occasion, except for one. 

“That would look good on you, Jean,” Lotta says, pointing out a long black coat. It looks warm, comfortable, something to keep the chill at bay. 

“I agree,” Nino says. 

Jean sighs. “Peer pressure. I was warned about people like you.” 

Nino and Lotta stand side by side as Jean slips the coat on. 

“Suits you,” Nino says. 

Jean looks at himself in the mirror, and for a moment, the reflection is his father’s. Jean’s eyes go a little wide. 

“You look very distinguished,” Lotta says. “I think it’s a winner.”

Jean sheds the coat and carefully puts it back on the hanger. “Maybe after I get a raise.” 

“We’ll keep it in mind,” Lotta promises, forging onward.

Lotta, of course, comes away with a lovely dress which Nino doesn’t allow Jean to pay any part of. After shopping, Nino bids them farewell and the siblings head home. Lotta spends dinner on her phone looking up news of the Prince, seeing if anyone has ideas on what color his wings will be.  

“I bet they’ll be white,” Lotta says. “Like the King’s.”

Jean shrugs. “We’ll see, won’t we? Rumors on the internet won’t make them come any faster.”

She smiles and puts her phone down. “I suppose. Hey Jean?”

He looks at her. “Hm?”

Lotta’s gaze drops down to her hands on the table. “It’s almost the anniversary.”

Jean nods. “I know.”

She traces invisible lines on the table. “Should we do something? I don’t want to keep ignoring it.”

Jean’s mind runs through a few options, ways they can honor their parents. A strange idea begins to form, taking hold in the forefront of his mind. 

“Let’s take a trip,” Jean says. “Vacation.”

Lotta’s gaze jumps back up to him. “What?”

“Well,” Jean starts. “I don’t think mom and dad would want us to spend our lives grieving. I think they’d want us to have fun. I know I work a lot, so we don’t get to do very many fun things together. Let’s go do something nice.”

A smile begins to form on Lotta’s face, marred only slightly by a tinge of sadness. “Okay. Where should we go?”

“Anywhere at all,” Jean says. “You pick.”

“Can Nino come too?” she asks. 

“We can ask,” Jean tells her. 

“He won’t say no,” Lotta says, looking back at her phone. “He likes us too much.”

This gets a laugh out of Jean. “So confident.”

She holds her head up high. “Yep.”

 

The next day, Jean is called out of class– not to Owl’s office, but to the disciplinary committee. They sit him down in the dean’s office, all stern-eyed. 

“Jean,” the dean starts. “We take allegations of cheating and plagiarism here very seriously. We got an anonymous tip today that you’ve been offering notes to other students.”

Jean tilts his head to the side. “Why would I do that?”

“That’s exactly why we called you in,” the dean goes on. “We’re very concerned about such a rumor. We don’t want it to be true.”

_ Rail. _

“It’s not,” Jean says, remaining calm. “I think, perhaps, someone’s a little mad at me.”

The dean bridges his fingers together. “Why would anyone be mad at you?”

“I saw something happen off campus. It’s not really my place to bring it to the school’s attention if it has nothing to do with school, but I guess that particular student didn’t like my interfering.”

The dean considers this. “I suppose that’s a reasonable explanation.”

“I won’t ask who reported me,” Jean says. “But… if I talk to who I think is responsible, and he apologizes, will you accept that it wasn’t me?”

The dean nods. “It’s a deal, Jean. If nothing comes of it, though, we will have to put you on probation. It may affect your chances of going to Dōwā.”

“Understood,” Jean says. 

 

Jean hunts down Rail after class. The kid is at his locker, picking and choosing books.

“Hey,” Jean calls. “Can I talk to you?”

Rail shrugs. “Kinda busy.”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait,” Jean says. He comes to stand behind Rail, hands in his pockets. 

Rail looks nervous and slightly annoyed. He shoves some things from his locker into his backpack, flings it over his shoulder carelessly and grumbles, “alright.”

“Let’s go off campus,” Jean says. 

Rail makes a noncommittal noise but follows Jean out. Jean passes Nino on their way out the front gates, and Nino studies the situation, raising an eyebrow in question. In answer, Jean just gives a slight nod of his head and keeps walking. 

He comes to stop a few blocks down, where they are technically far away enough for Jean to light a cigarette. 

“A valiant attempt,” he says to Rail, blowing smoke away from the guy this time.

Rail doesn’t make eye contact. 

Jean holds out a cigarette to him. Surprised, Rail takes it. “Did you get in trouble?”

“I won’t be in trouble if the person who reported me comes back and says they were wrong,” Jean says as he sparks the lighter for Rail. 

Rail tests the cigarette, cautiously putting it to his lips. The first breath has him in a coughing fit. He glares up at Jean. “How do you do this?”

Jean smiles, not mean spirited, just amused. “Practice, I suppose.”

Rail straightens up and tries again, prideful at this point. He barely keeps it together, speaking in a strained voice. “It’s fine.”

Jean takes a smooth breath in and out. “Listen. I know you might be mad at me, but trying to get me in trouble for something I didn’t do isn’t a very well-thought-out plan. It would have been smarter for you to tell them to search my bag for cigarettes.”

Rail frowns, staring down at the offending paraphernalia in his hand. “Damn. You’re right.”

“Can we forget this? It’s not that I care about going to Dōwā so much, but my sister really wants to go and I’d hate to have to break it to her that some guy with a grudge spoiled her chances.”

Rail grunts. “Fine. Just promise you’ll stay out of my way.”

“Promise you’ll retract your accusation,” Jean says. 

Rail narrows his eyes, but holds out a hand. “Shake on it.”

Jean takes his hand. “Thank you. My sister will be happy.”

Rail gives Jean a sincere and kind of confused look. “You know, you kind of annoyed me for a second there with the whole… misunderstood good guy routine. But I’m starting to think that’s just who you are.”

Jean considers this and takes a long drag. “I guess I can’t really say for sure. I think people are generally bad at describing themselves. That’s why we need other people around, you know? So we can figure out who we are.”

Rail rolls his eyes. “Go wax poetic somewhere else, man. I’ll apologize, alright?”

Jean nods and tosses his cigarette to the ground. “I appreciate it. See you around.”

“Yeah,” Rail says, staying behind as Jean walks away. Jean wonders if he’ll try to finish the cigarette or just wait until Jean is gone to get rid of it. 

When Jean gets back to campus, Nino is waiting outside the main entrance. 

“Everything okay?” he asks. 

Jean nods. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Good,” Nino says. “Let me know if I have to rough anybody up.”

Jean smiles. “I didn’t know you did that.”

“I don’t. But for the Otuses.” Nino meets his smile and gives a small bow. “Your wish is my command.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jean says, a small, unexplained thrill jolting down his spine.


	5. Chapter 5

That small thrill doesn’t fade as Jean walks home with Lotta. It continues to build until it blossoms into a horrible stabbing pain in his shoulders. Lotta notices, of course, as they get into the elevator up to their floor. 

“Jean,” she says, grabbing his arm and pulling it around her shoulder. “It’s okay, you can lean on me.”

Jean tries to laugh at his tiny sister helping him inside, but all that he can manage is a small, pained noise. Lotta frets the rest of the way home. She helps him into his bed and Jean lays face down, not wanting any pressure on his back.

“I think we should call the doctor,” Lotta says. 

Jean grumbles. “I don’t like doctors.”

“I know,” Lotta says, petting his hair. “But this looks like a bad one. I don’t think our painkillers are going to help.”

Jean sighs, eyes shut. “It might go away in the night.”

“I don’t want to take that chance,” Lotta decides. “I’m calling.”

Jean doesn’t fight. He doesn’t have the energy for it. Lotta walks into the other room and makes the call. Jean knows they’re lucky to have found a doctor who will come to their house, especially one so nice. The last he wants is to go to the hospital in an ambulance. That would be money he doesn’t have, and undue stress for Lotta. Jean buries his head in his pillow, hoping maybe he’ll fall asleep, knowing the pain is too great for that, until he hears someone buzz for the door. 

“Doctor Pine!” Lotta sounds relieved. “Thank goodness. He’s in his room.”

“Thank you, Miss Otus,” he says. The door to Jean’s room is pushed open and Jean opens his eyes, feeling like an animal is digging its claws into his back. Doctor Pine is a massive man hailing from Jumōku. He set up a practice in Bādon a few years back. Jean doesn’t mind seeing him.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Otus,” Pine says, setting his bag down on the nightstand.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Jean asks.

Pine chuckles. “Yes, usually. So, let’s see. Tell me what’s going on.”

Jean tells him when it started, and how he hasn’t really been able to move since he got home. Pine nods, taking it all in stoically. He smiles at the end and asks Jean if he can examine his back. Jean just nods. Pine lifts Jean’s shirt and makes a noise.

“What?” Jean asks.

“You’ve got some bruising,” Pine notes. “Nothing to be worried about for now. JRA can cause that.”

Jean nods. 

“I’ll write you a script, with instruction that your sister can pick it up for you. Take it twice daily. The pain should improve in a few days. I’d recommend taking off from school tomorrow and Friday. Give yourself a long weekend to recover. Would you like me to write you a note?”

“That would be appreciated,” Jean says, eyes sliding shut again. He feels a bit delirious. “I’m trying to stay in good standing. We want to go to Dōwā.”

“Sounds fun,” Pine says, the scribbling of his pen quiet in the background. “I’ll give this to your sister. I hope you feel better soon, Jean. Call again if it gets worse.”

Jean thinks he nods against his pillow. His back is burning up. Pine says goodbye and excuses himself. Lotta comes back in to check on him. 

“Jean?” she whispers. “Need anything?”

“Cold,” he mumbles.

She hurries away and comes back with a damp washcloth. With great effort, Jean sheds his shirt and puts the washcloth over the bruises. Lotta gives a soft  _ oh _ when she sees the marks. The cool of the cloth is only a brief moment of relief, but Jean gladly accepts it and sends Lotta away.

“I’ll text Nino,” she says as she leaves. 

“Why?” Jean asks. 

She gives him a little smile. “Jean. He’d want to know.”

Jean laughs quietly, though the effort strains his back even more. “Thank you.”

 

Sleep comes in fitful bursts. Lotta wakes up early to run to the pharmacy to get Jean’s prescription, makes sure he takes his dose, and then leaves him toast on the bedside table before heading to school. Jean opens his eyes, tries to thank Lotta, and realizes it’s 10:30 and she’s been gone for hours. He sighs and sets his head back down, feeling like he’s on a boat on the ocean. 

 

When the front door sounds, Jean expects Lotta to come through and gently scold him for not eating the toast. When he pries his eyes open, it’s Nino standing over him.

“Jean,” he says quietly. “If I had known you were going to look so pathetic, I’d have brought something nicer than homework.”

Jean sort of laughs. “If I had known you were coming, I probably would have put a shirt on.”

Nino laughs and sets his bag down. “Don’t be embarrassed on my account. Can I sit?”

Jean shuffles over a bit and Nino sits on the edge of his bed. “Is it very bad?”

“Mmm,” Jean takes a deep breath, but it aches. “All I’m going to say is that it’s not good.”

“So humble,” Nino says. His gaze drifts to Jean’s back, and the bruises.

“How do they look?” Jean asks. “Haven’t seen in the mirror yet.”

“Quite a lovely shade of purple.” 

“How big are they?” Jean asks. “I can feel where it hurts the most, but I don’t know where they are.”

“Can I touch you?” Nino asks.

Jean is grateful that his eyes are shut, so that his shock isn’t too obvious. “Sure.”

Nino says, “I’ll trace them.”

Jean braces himself. Nino places his fingertip on Jean’s skin, barely any pressure at all. He draws a jagged sort of oval across Jean’s back, once next to his left shoulder blade, and again next to the right. Jean feels like he’s unwinding from the softness of this touch, despite the little rise of pain that comes with the contact. No one has touched him like this, and even though Jean knows it doesn’t mean anything, he can’t help but entertain the passing thought that maybe Nino wanted to touch him– wanted the excuse. He could have taken a picture after all. Even if it hurts, Jean wants Nino to keep drawing on his skin like this. A sigh escapes him, relaxed despite the pain. 

Nino pulls his hand away. “Tired?”

Jean makes a noise, opening his eyes. “The medicine seems to have put me under a spell.”

“Sleeping beauty?” Nino offers, leaning over to catch Jean’s eye. He’s got a rueful look about him.

“Eh,” Jean closes his eyes again. “What’s the one about the sewing needle?”

“Man, you really are out of it,” Nino chuckles. “I should let you rest.”

“Mm,” Jean shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” Nino says, not seeming too put out. “What do you need?”

Jean isn’t prepared to ask Nino to touch him again, even if it's what he wants. It’s too much, too obvious. Jean is ready to quietly stuff these feelings into a cigarette case to dwell on later. He’ll turn them to ash so he doesn’t jeopardize what he has with Nino. 

“I’m bored,” Jean says, feigning nonchalance. 

A small laugh from Nino. “Would you like me to read you a story?”

Jean sighs. “I want a cigarette, but Lotta would kill me if I smoked in the house.”

“Probably not a good time to smoke anyway,” Nino says, tapping a finger at the base of Jean’s neck. Another damn touch. “Deep breaths probably don’t feel nice.”

“Yeah,” Jean admits. “So don’t make me laugh.”

“But that’s my specialty, Jean,” Nino says. “I’m a comedian at heart.”

Jean smiles. “Here I was thinking you were some kind of photographer. How silly of me.”

Nino shakes his head. “You’re too literal for your own good. How’re you feeling down there.”

“A bit like my back has a fever. Also, maybe, my head has one too.”

Nino makes a low sound and touches the back of his hand to Jean’s forehead. 

“Maybe so,” he says. “You’re a mess, Jean.”

“Is that your official diagnosis?” Jean asks, still smiling. Feeling poorly may have its ups if it means being cared for by Nino. Nino starts to pull his hand back and Jean makes a noise. “You’re cold. Feels nice.”

Nino chuckles. “I’ll get a washcloth and some ice. Be right back.”

He stands and Jean lets out a disappointed sigh. He does not quite feel the same urge to tread lightly. The pain and the uncomfortable heat burning him up from the inside push him to do whatever he wants to feel better. Apparently, his inner voice wants Nino. 

Soft steps pad back into the room and Jean looks up at his friend. Nino lays a dish towel on Jean’s back and a plastic bag full of ice on top of that. Then he puts a damp cloth on the back of Jean’s neck. 

“There we go,” Nino says. “I actually did bring you something other than homework. For the pain.”

Jean looks back at Nino, curiosity sparking. 

Nino digs through his bag and pulls two little boxes out. “Home remedies for joint pain and bruises. My dad used to use them. White willow tea and epsom salt.”

“Salt?” Jean echoes.

“Put it in a bath.” Nino puts the boxes on the night stand. “I set the kettle on already for the tea.”

Jean starts to laugh, despite his sane self telling him not to. “You're not going to stick around for the bath are you?”

Nino returns his little laugh. “I think you can handle that part. But I can get water going if you want.”

Jean shakes his head. “I'll get there eventually, promise. Just not yet. Don't want to fall asleep in the water.”

“No,” Nino shakes his head. “Let's not do that. What do they have you taking?” 

Nino picks up the orange prescription bottle and gives it a shake, like that’ll answer the question. 

“Whatever it is, it’s strong,” Jean mumbles, feeling the pull of sleep again. He fights it, forcing his eyes open. Nino tosses the bottle up and snatches it out of the air before setting it back down.

“You’ll be gone tomorrow too?” he asks. 

Jean nods. 

“Long days,” Nino comments, leaning his elbows on his knees. “People try to talk to me when you’re not around.”

Jean snickers. “I can drag myself in if you need someone to save you.”

“Let me do the saving,” Nino says, a little too quiet to be a joke. 

“Happily,” Jean responds. “Though, I hope I don’t need too much of it.”

The room begins to feel heavy. They’re getting awfully serious for what had been a silly conversation. Maybe it’s the drugs, but Jean wants to keep things honest. Perhaps there’s no use in pretending.  _ Perhaps _ Jean was born to make a fool of himself and this is his chance.

The kettle starts to sing and Nino tells him to hold on. Jean accepts that, no, this is not his moment. When Nino comes back, he sets a steaming mug on the nightstand next to the salt and pills. 

“You have to promise you’ll drink the whole cup,” Nino says. 

“Sounds like you’re leaving,” Jean speaks slowly. “Date?”

“Yeah,” Nino says, heading for the door. “Someone has to make you dinner.”

Jean buries his smile in his pillow.

When Lotta comes home, the three of them eat in Jean’s room. Nino and Lotta spread a tablecloth over Jean’s bed and eat cross-legged on top. Jean manages to get himself upright long enough to enjoy dinner before the pain becomes too much. As he settles back down on his stomach, Nino offers to clean up after them before he heads home. 

“Thank you for coming,” Jean murmurs. 

“Anything for the Otuses,” Nino says. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

After he leaves, Jean takes more medicine and falls into a heavy, heavy sleep. 

 

Waking up from the painkillers is disorienting. His phone tells him that it’s nine in the morning. Jean hauls himself up so he can sit on the edge of his bed and get his bearings back. He eyes the box of salt, wondering if it actually works. No harm in trying after all. 

Jean drags himself to the bathroom and starts the water. Immediately the steam makes him feel better. He adds the suggested amount of salt and waits for the tub to fill with his feet in the water. Behind him, he catches his reflection in the mirror, and the two ugly bruises marking his back. Little twin splotches of color that don’t belong. The memory of Nino’s fingers tracing them makes Jean shiver.

He sinks down low into the warm water to submerge his back and banish the cold. He keeps his phone on the edge of the tub. The temptation to close his eyes is great, so he decides to text Nino in order to keep his brain engaged. 

_ Hey _

While he waits for Nino’s response, he scrolls through news sites, reading up on the royals. Prince Schwann’s coming out party is going to be a grand affair it seems. People are speculating if the King will abdicate for Schwann, but seeing as how he is only turning sixteen, Jean has strong doubts about that. Even if Schwann were older, Jean doesn’t think he’d be ready to rule. Nothing about him screams  _ kingly _ . He hasn’t left the palace once in his—

_ morning sunshine _

Jean flips over to the conversation with Nino. 

_ Trying out your bath idea. _

_ don’t drop your phone in the water _

_ Just trying to keep myself awake.  _

_ if I wasn’t in class i’d call _

_ Appreciated. What are you going to bring me today? _

_ what would you like _

_ All the riches in the world. _

_ i’ll see what I can do _

Jean feels a little flutter in his stomach. 

_ is the salt helping _

_ Seems to be. Calms it down anyway. _

_ glad to hear it. don’t stay in too long or you’ll prune _

_ Sage advice.  _

_ here to help. what do you want for dinner _

Jean smiles to himself. 

_ Whatever you’re making. _

_ no help at all _

_ I only eat good food. Does that help? _

_ clears it right up. gotta run see ya soon _

Jean spends the next twenty minutes soaking up the salt. The steam and heat make him too drowsy, and he stands up, feeling a surprising relief in his back. He looks at the bruises, still angry and colorful, but the pain has definitely subsided. He makes a mental note to thank Nino before returning to bed and passing out again. 

The weekend is not nearly as awful as Jean expected it would be. Nino is basically there the whole time, offering assistance and curing boredom as needed. Mealtimes are more lively when it’s not just Lotta fretting quietly, but the three of them pretending to have a picnic on Jean’s bed. Nino and Jean take to playing cards, or, when Jean can get himself into the living room, watching old movies that Nino brings over, or just talking the time away. The pain fluctuates drastically over the period of days, but the tea and salt do help as temporary relief. A particularly bad spell strikes late on Friday night, when Nino offers to spend the night. Jean lays face down in bed, shirt off, sheets clutched in his fists. 

“What can I do?” Nino asks quietly, as if a loud noise will make the pain worse. 

Jean grits his teeth as it washes over him again, knives in his back. He can’t speak for a few seconds, just digs his nails into the bed. When it calms for a moment, he is much too far gone to care about being subtle.

“Can you touch my back?” he asks. “Like you did before?”

Nino doesn’t ask questions, just lays his hand on the small of Jean’s back. He hesitates only for a moment before lightly trailing his fingertips across Jean’s skin. 

A shiver and goosebumps. Jean sighs, his hands finally unclenching. 

“Like this?” Nino asks.

Jean just nods.

It works better than the meds, better than the salt or the tea. The simplest solution, once Jean is brave enough to ask for it.

The sensation is soothing enough to put him to sleep. Jean wakes up with a dry throat and forces himself to shuffle into the kitchen for water. Nino is passed out on the sofa, the TV casting a soft glow over his face. Jean thinks about turning the TV off, but wonders if Nino is the kind of person who likes the white noise, so he just gets his water. As he’s on his way back to bed, he hears a hoarse, “ _ Jean _ ?” 

Jean pauses and turns to catch a very sleepy Nino looking up at him. Hearing his name spoken in a rough voice gives him a pleasant rush. 

Nino laughs quietly. “You fell asleep right there. Pretty incredible.”

“Thank you,” Jean says, embarrassment undoubtedly reddening his face. 

Nino clears his throat and points at the TV. “An old western is on repeat. It doesn’t really hold up, and the acting isn’t great, but it kinda makes you want to ride a horse. You want to watch?”

Jean sits beside Nino, knowing he will always be willing to watch a dated western with bad acting if it's with Nino. Twenty minutes in, there is just a small prickle down Jean’s spine and he stiffens. 

Nino glances at him, reaches his hand toward him, silently asking for permission. Jean nods and Nino slides his hand up under Jean’s shirt to scratch his back again. Jean finds himself desperately hoping this will be a pattern. 

There is no better medicine than this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JRA = juvenile rheumatoid arthritis


	6. Chapter 6

By the time Monday rolls around, Jean is sore, but able to come back to school and stay conscious. He spent all of Sunday catching up on work so he could be ready to come back after two days missed. Nino still keeps a close eye on Jean through all their classes, reacting to every little movement he makes, probably wondering if the pain is coming back. 

At one point in their gov class, Jean passes Nino a note. 

_ Take a picture and all that. I’m fine. _

Nino smiles at the piece of paper. 

He, Lotta, and Nino walk from school to the bakery together. Lotta is overjoyed to see Jean moving around without a pained expression and they celebrate with good bread. As they stand outside the shop, about to part ways for the day, Nino leans down and whispers to Jean, “you know him? Hard left.”

Jean glances in the direction Nino is indicating and spots Rail staring at them from half a block down, heading in their direction. Rail is clearly surprised when Jean meets his gaze. Rail looks around, probably debating finding an alternate route.

“Who’s that?” Lotta asks. 

“Just a friend from school,” Jean says, waving at Rail.

Rail’s gaze jumps around between the three of them. When it lands on Lotta, there is a brief moment of disbelief. Not the same surprise from before– more like he’s been overcome. 

“A friend?” Lotta asks and looks at Rail again. He is close enough now to hear them. The discomfort is obvious to Jean, but Lotta just gives a big smile. “Hi!”

Skittish, Rail sticks his hands in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears. “Hello.”

“You’re a friend of my brother’s?” Lotta asks, her excitement obvious.

The confusion flashes through Rail’s eyes before he recovers. “Y-yeah.”

“Good to meet you,” Lotta says, holding out her hand. “I’m Lotta.”

“You’re, uh, yeah…” Rail takes her hand and Jean is ninety eight percent sure that the boy has fallen in love with his sister, judging from the stars in his eyes. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Want some bread?” she asks, reaching into the bag. “We may have gone a little overboard.”

Rail gives a little nervous laugh and shakes his head. “Oh, I’ll be okay. Thank you, though.”

She reaches into the bag anyway, separating out half of a loaf. “I insist.”

“Wow, thanks,” Rail says, accepting the bag of bread as if it were some ancient treasure. “I’ll try it when I get home.”

“I hope you like it,” Lotta beams at him.

Rail’s face begins to turn red and he looks at the ground. “I have to head home. Thank you.” He scurries across the street and Lotta smiles at Jean. 

“So many friends,” she says, looking proud.

Jean and Nino snicker, Nino clearly putting two and two together that this is the “friend” who attempted to bully that kid from before. 

“Jean’s got popularity written all over him,” Nino says. 

Jean holds his head up high. “Prom King material.”

“You have my vote.” Nino grins.

Jean meets his bright eyes. Prom. Jean hasn’t thought about prom at all. It’s not until spring term of course, but perhaps, maybe this year…

“Well, I’ll let you go,” Nino interrupts his thoughts. 

Lotta frowns. “Our first night without Nino in days. So sad.”

“I have to go home every once in a while,” Nino tells her. “Sadly, someone has to keep the apartment together.”

“Thank you so much, Nino,” she smiles. “You’ve been such a help.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jean adds quietly. “We’ll see you for dinner this week, right?”

“Of course,” Nino says. “Can’t get rid of me now.”

_ Good _ , Jean thinks. The siblings wave as Nino heads down the street. Jean allows himself to wonder if Nino likes to dance. 

 

 

The trip to Dōwā approaches fast. Lotta talks endlessly about it, but Jean doesn’t mind her excitement at all. It makes the prospect of meeting the royal family feel less intimidating. Knowing Nino will be there as well takes the last bit of stress away.  

However, Jean is not excited about another long bus ride. Even though it’s closer than Famasu, he knows his back has been far more sensitive lately. Even the school day makes him feel stiff and uncomfortable. The brief walks from class to class become a relief from the hard, posture-fixing chairs. Nino has taken to asking Jean how he’s feeling far more frequently. He never asks when Lotta’s around, though, probably knowing that Jean would downplay in front of her. The last thing he wants is to upset her before the trip and give her a reason to think they won’t be going.

Once it is a few days away, they are given itineraries for their visit. The kids will be shown around the palace, have lunch in one of the formal dining rooms to enjoy traditional cuisine, speak with some of the royal advisors for the educational portion of the day, and then all the kids from visiting schools will have a chance to mingle with each other and with those who live in Dōwā, including the Prince, and, potentially the King himself, for a casual dinner. 

The day before they are set to leave, Nino and Lotta go with Jean to buy a formal outfit. Lotta picks out a suit in a darker shade of royal blue that she says is  _ regal without being too pushy, y’know?  _ Jean and Nino just nod along with her. Once home, Jean spends the evening putting Nino’s white willow tea over ice so he can bring it in a thermos for the ride over. 

After their classes on Friday, the three of them meet up by the tiny bus and look for seats. There are five students from their school going on the trip, Lotta being the sixth kid. A very high achieving senior named Grus, who Jean gets along with fine but wouldn’t consider a friend, takes a seat toward the front and pulls out a book and a music player. Moz is there, but, much to her dismay, neither Atoli nor Kelly were chosen to go with her. Moz invites Lotta to sit with her, which Lotta happily accepts. Jean and Nino take up the last row on the bus, and Nino lets Jean have the window seat. 

“I’m glad Lotta has company,” Jean says, eyeing the backs of their heads. The girls are chatting away already, Moz fawning over Lotta. 

“It’s good,” Nino nods, propping his knees against the back of the empty seat in front of them. 

“You know that’s a dangerous way to sit, right?” Jean notes, eyeing Nino’s legs.

Nino nods, looking smug, head up, slight smile. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ve done my civic duty,” Jean says. 

Nino chuckles. “You gonna be okay? Six hours is a long time.”

“We’ll see,” Jean says, allowing himself to be honest. “I have your tea with me, which is better than nothing.”

“Do you like it?” Nino asks. 

Jean retrieves the thermos and opens it up to take a sip. He hands it off to Nino. “I added enough sugar to make it palatable.”

Nino takes just the smallest taste and holds the thermos away. “I see you put some tea in your sugar.”

Jean smiles as Nino hands the thermos back. “Sweet tooth. The whole family is afflicted.” Jean awkwardly cuts himself off from saying what would naturally follow. 

But there is Nino. “Your parents too?”

Jean nods. “Yeah.” He turns the thermos in his hands, inspecting it for flaws. “My mother used to say, ‘it isn’t a meal if there’s no dessert’.”

Nino’s own smile is too warm. “I wish I could have talked to her. I bet she was incredible.” He leans a little closer. “Sorry if this is too much.”

“No, it’s…” Jean draws a line in the condensation along the thermos. “It does well to remember.”

“I never knew my mom,” Nino says. They are just barely speaking above a whisper now. “But my dad never made me feel lonely or like I was missing something. Now, though, I miss him like hell.”

Jean braves a look at Nino, all hunched down in his seat. Nino takes his glasses off and for a moment Jean is terrified that Nino is crying, but Nino only puts the glasses in their case and sticks the case into his backpack. No, he’s  _ still _ smiling somehow. With a sharp pain in his chest, Jean stares back down at his tea. 

“The anniversary of… our parents,” Jean mumbles, unable to say  _ deaths _ . “It’s coming up fast.”

Nino nods, looking at Jean’s profile. 

“I told Lotta we should do something nice, like a vacation. I don’t want to be morose about it. Our mother and father were happy people. They wouldn’t want us to be sad, but truthfully.” Jean fights to keep his face blank. “I don’t know if I can follow through.” He quickly takes a sip of the tea, trying to force back the lump in his throat.

“Jean,” Nino says. 

Jean can’t bring himself to look at Nino, needing to tuck away this emotion. 

“You can be happy and sad at the same time,” Nino says. “That’s kind of what grief is. You know the memories are good, but the pain is real. It’s a tightrope walk. I just don’t want you to think that you’re a failure for getting emotional. You’ve been so strong for Lotta.”

It burns. Jean’s throat, his eyes and his damn back. He swallows hard, the three points converging at once like he’s been hit by a truck. All he can think to do is take a huge gulp of tea. 

“Jean?” Nino’s voice is urgent. 

Jean makes a noise, pulling the thermos away with shaking hands. Nino immediately takes it from him, sealing it up and setting it aside. Jean covers his mouth with his left hand and makes a fist with his right, pushing it into the seat between himself and Nino. 

“Scale of one to ten?” Nino asks quietly. He peeks around the seats, sitting upright again. “Ten meaning I need to tell them to stop the bus.”

Jean pulls his hands back up and shows Nino seven fingers. He will not admit to more. 

Nino takes a breath, looking back at Jean. “Lean forward a little. And take your jacket off.”

Jean pushes himself away from the seat, slowly, painfully, removing his jacket. Nino kindly helps him out of it and folds the jacket up before putting it away. Jean watches Nino take the thermos in both hands, gripping it tightly.

“Bear with me,” Nino says, flashing a smile.

Ten seconds go by. After another glance at the rest of the bus, Nino quickly puts the thermos into a pocket of his bag and unceremoniously shoves his left hand up under the back of Jean’s t-shirt. The shock of Nino’s cold hand makes Jean sit bolt upright and cover his mouth again. The surprise and the cold condensation still clinging to Nino’s skin are stark relief against the burning pain. It’s almost enough to counteract it. Jean looks at Nino out of the corner of his eye and Jean can’t help but smile.

“Rather inelegant, I know,” Nino whispers, a glint in his eye. “Forgive me.”

Jean starts to laugh, trying to hold it back so as not to draw attention to them. Nino meets his gaze, smiling, also fighting back laughter. 

They snicker quietly at each other. As the chill from Nino’s hand starts to fade, exceeding warmth takes its place. Nino is touching him again, so careless. Jean’s smile turns less manic, and more comfortable with the realization that maybe he can expect this from Nino. Maybe this is the friendship they have– one based on photographs and smoke and skin. 

Though, Jean realizes that Nino has given him much more than he could possibly have given Nino. 

Hand still on Jean’s bruises, Nino gets the thermos again. “More won’t hurt.”

Jean nods and takes another drink. “Thank you.” 

They collect themselves for a moment, trying to resist the urge to break down into laughter as Nino starts to mumble something about  _ the look on your face _ . After the chill has gone from Nino’s hand, he draws a few circles across Jean’s back with a gentleness that makes Jean’s eyes grow heavy. Eventually, Nino pulls his hand back and Jean leans against the seat. 

“Like magic,” Nino says. “You can close your eyes if you want. I have books and music.”

“Are you sure?” Jeans asks, eyes already sliding shut. 

Another little chuckle. “Yeah. I’ll watch over you.”

Jean breathes deep. “Nino.”

“Hm?”

“I brought up the anniversary for a reason,” he says. 

“What is it?” Nino asks. 

Jean speaks to the dark behind his eyelids, much easier this way. “It’s true that I’m not sure I can get through a vacation with Lotta without it getting depressing, but.” He sighs, forcing himself to finally just ask. “Would you want to come with us? I think I could be stronger for her with you around. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or like you’re intruding. You wouldn’t be. In fact, it was Lotta’s idea–”

“Jean,” Nino says, cutting him off with words and with a hand on his arm. Jean meets Nino’s gaze again. Nino has that easy smile on, banishing any awkwardness. “You don’t have to explain. Just tell me when and where. I’d be honored.”

Jean’s lips part as he searches for something to say. Why does everything come so naturally to Nino?

Nino relaxes back into his own seat, taking his hand off of Jean’s arm. “You don’t have to thank me, either, okay?”

“Okay,” Jean manages. “Then I won’t. At all.”

“Never again,” Nino says. “And I won’t have to say you’re welcome. Waste of words between friends, really.”

Jean smiles and shuts his eyes. “Saves precious time for napping.”

“Very precious,” Nino adds with a laugh, just a soothing voice beside Jean. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

 

When Jean does wake up, his back feels a bit like someone rearranged his bones and muscles into some modern art piece. Not entirely unmanageable, but he drinks the rest of the tea just to make it through the remainder of the drive. Nino has his eyes closed too, his earphones playing something loudly enough that Jean can hear a bit of the backbeat, but Nino isn’t asleep. His index finger is tapping rhythmically against his knee, which is still propped up. 

Jean debates getting Nino’s attention, torn between wanting to talk to him, and wanting to sit there and study him. 

Per usual, without his glasses on, Nino looks older. They changed out of their uniforms before they left for the trip and he’s got on his blue jeans and his chunky boots and a black v-neck sweater rolled up to his elbows. Jean isn’t fond of the word  _ cool _ , as people usually employ it out of laziness, but Nino looks cool. Not in a,  _ I don’t know how to describe you _ way, but in a full embodiment of the word. An aesthetic that simply says  _ I know what I’m doing, and I’m doing it well _ . Everything just adds up to it: the clothes, the music, the angles of his face and the handsome smile– because Jean would be lying if he didn’t admit that Nino is handsome. 

Nino opens one eye to look at Jean looking at him. A smile pulls at Nino’s lips. 

“Doing okay?” he asks. 

The pain in Jean’s back subsides a bit. He nods. 

Nino pulls his headphones off. “That’s what I like to hear.”

 

When the bus finally stops at their destination, an adorable inn, everyone is stretching and yawning in the parking lot. There are groups of students and teachers from all thirteen districts staying in this one inn, and Jean’s gaze wanders as they walk inside with their suitcases, wondering if he’ll recognize anyone. Mostly, he is bleary eyed and sore and wants to go lie down. 

The students are told to double up for rooms. Lotta and Moz are already arm in arm, so Jean knows Lotta will be okay. Nino pats Jean’s arm with the back of his hand. “Want to find an old movie on TV?”

Jean nods. “Sounds perfect.”

The faculty hand out keys for the kids, giving Jean and Nino the last pair. Only, it isn’t a pair. 

“Uh, hold on,” the teacher says, turning back to the desk. She starts talking quietly, and the receptionist goes a little red-faced, apologizing. 

“Somebody messed up,” Nino says with a chuckle. 

Jean tilts his head, trying to listen in. 

“–thought there was only 7 of you. I’m so sorry. We’re all booked up right now with the visiting schools.”

“Ah, hm,” the teacher turns away, glancing at Jean and Nino, who, in turn, glance at each other. 

“I don’t care if you don’t,” Jean says, trying to mask the rising tide of nerves. 

“Nah,” Nino says, and approaches their teacher. “It’s all good with us. We’ll share.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. 

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Nino says. “Don’t worry.”

She gives a relieved smile. “Alright.”

Jean struggles to remain calm. He’s going to share a bed with Nino. It’s fine. Completely normal. Strange circumstances and all that. Not like they chose it. 

The students all move toward the steps, heading down the hall to their selection of rooms. Lotta says goodnight as they pass her by. Nino finds their door and unlocks it, kicking his boots off immediately. 

“Pretty nice place,” he says as he walks inside. 

Jean nods, though all he can really see is the bed. It’s slightly bigger than his bed at home, white and gold accented. There’s enough space that they won’t touch each other, but what if Nino moves in his sleep? What if  _ Jean _ moves in his sleep?

“Want to find a movie on TV?” Nino asks, setting his bag at the foot of the bed.

Jean nods, the tension in his back ratcheting up again. He pulls his shoes off as well, setting them neatly by the wall. Nino sits cross-legged on the bed and grabs the remote, looking comfortable already.

“I bet there’s some black and white classic playing,” Nino goes on, flipping through channels. “We could piss off the teachers and rent something.”

Jean chuckles, pulling himself up on top of the covers. He is too much of a coward to sit directly beside Nino, so he sits a little closer to the TV. He is so self conscious, he can almost  _ feel _ Nino’s shape behind him. 

“Here we go,” Nino says, setting the remote down. 

Some low key song is playing over the sight of a man in a long coat walking down the street, monologuing dramatically to the audience. He is recounting a missing person’s case. Jean tries to figure out why he feels so nervous, especially because he was the one who suggested this. Nino readily agreed, though, didn’t he? 

Jean knows he shouldn’t dwell on it, but all he can think is that maybe Nino wanted to share a bed with him. He firmly tells himself that this is not the case, trying to stifle the disappointment that goes along with it. A sigh escapes Jean as he realizes he can’t keep denying the obvious. A familiar sensation prickles along Jean’s spine and his breath hitches. 

He has a massive crush on Nino.

“You okay?” Nino asks.

Jean makes a noise like he’s trying to speak and searching for the right word.

“Hey, why don’t you lie down,” Nino says, passing him a pillow. 

Jean slides onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. His back is heating up for reasons other than Nino’s general proximity. It’s almost like he can feel the bruises darkening. 

“Can you check my back?” Jean asks, turning his face to the side so Nino can actually hear him. 

Nino wordlessly picks up the edge of Jean’s shirt and pushes it up to his neck. It’s not undressing, but it still feels better than it probably should. 

“Not great,” Nino gives his solemn diagnosis. “How’s the pain?”

“Not great,” Jean echoes. 

“Got any more tea?” Nino asks. 

“Drank it all on the bus,” Jean sighs. 

Nino brushes his thumb along the edge of one of the bruises. “You could take a bath if you wanted.”

Jean shoves his face back into the pillow, skin burning. It’s not a bad idea, but then he’ll have to deal with the fact that he would be naked for an extended period of time in the same hotel room as Nino. 

Nino’s hand is still on Jean’s back. Something about the way he is touching Jean conveys some kind of interest, like he’s touching something precious, breakable. Nino’s voice is quiet when he says, “Whatever you think will help.”

Jean doesn’t want to move at all. The pain has calmed a bit, as if accepting his feelings has settled both his nerves and his aching bones. He picks his head up. “This is good.”

Nino chuckles. “Sure. You rest, I’ll be here.”

_ Starved for touch _ . Crush or no, Jean knows he's desperate. With a deep breath, he shifts a bit, laying on his side so his back is to Nino. 

“You can take this off,” Nino says, tugging on Jean’s shirt. 

Jean quickly sheds it, happy to oblige. Nino slides closer and keeps up his tracing. They fall silent, and Jean listens to the old timey cadence of the actors on the TV. A few moments later, he shuts his eyes. Though the pain has subsided, there is still a strange pulsing in his back, like something is alive in his bones. Nino soothes him through it. 

Every so often, Nino will ask Jean if he wants him to shut the TV off. Jean says no every time, liking the soft background noise, not tired enough to fall asleep. Eventually, Nino is yawning and Jean asks  _ him _ if he wants to shut the TV off.

“We can leave it on,” Nino says. “I’m just going to lie down.”

Jean expects Nino to go to the other, proper side of the bed. When Nino grabs a pillow and settles down beside Jean so he can keep touching Jean’s back, Jean keeps his head down to hide his smile. 

“Thank you,” Jean says quietly.

“Here to help,” Nino replies, voice tired and slow, but still sincere. “See you in the morning, highness.”

Jean chooses not to address the new nickname, wondering if Nino only said it because he’s half asleep. Nino usually only calls Lotta princess or highness or majesty. Jean doesn’t mind though. When Nino begins to fall asleep, Jean can hear his breathing level off. Nino’s movements become lazier until he gives up and rests his hand on Jean’s waist just to avoid breaking contact. For a minute, Nino moves only his thumb, still trying to comfort, before he goes completely still. 

Bearing witness to this process makes Jean feel trusted. He spends an hour thinking about turning over, wanting to look at Nino as he sleeps, but he refrains, not wanting to risk waking him. This is good enough, the steady sound of breathing, and the small weight of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter, but thank you for your patience.   
> Such silly boys...


	7. Chapter 7

When Jean wakes up, phone alarm going off in the pocket of his jeans, he is on his back and Nino’s hand is on his stomach, and he just barely stops himself from bolting upright. As the haze of sleep clears from his mind, he reminds him that sometimes people move in their sleep. He shouldn’t be alarmed or excited. 

Certainly not excited. 

Jean takes a deep breath, memorizing the shape of Nino’s hand on his skin, before he opens his mouth:

“Nino?” 

It takes a few seconds, but a response comes. “Mmm?”

Nino’s hand curls on his stomach and then pulls away. 

“Just seeing if you’re awake,” Jean says.

“Sort of,” Nino answers, laughing. He rolls away from Jean, lifting heavy arms to rub at his eyes. “I’m gonna shower.”

Jean nods, shutting his eyes again. “I’m just going to lay here.”

Nino’s laugh is one of the nicest sounds Jean gets to hear. 

“Be right back,” Nino says, getting out of bed. 

Eyes shut, Jean listens to the bathroom door open and close and the water starting to run. His eyes flutter open again, gaze drifting to the wall.  _ Nino is in there. Probably naked. Definitely naked, people don’t shower with their clothes on. _

Jean rolls onto his stomach and thinks for a moment to suffocate himself in the pillows while he still can.

Sleep clings to him and he is in and out for a few minutes until the water shuts off and he thinks maybe he should get up too. The students will be gathering in the lobby of the inn for breakfast soon and he wants to feel clean for the tour of the palace. He gathers up clothes for the day and grabs a book while he waits for Nino. When the bathroom door opens up again, Jean sets the book down.

“Now I’m not saying I’m a worldly guy,” Nino walks back into the room. Jean immediately wishes he hadn’t put his book down, because he’s staring at a rather naked Nino, towel wrapped carelessly around his waist. “But that’s an impressive shower.”

Jean’s gaze drops to the floor. “I, uh, didn’t even look when I came in.”

“Check it out. You showering? Of course you are. Go on.”

Jean scurries into the bathroom, doesn’t even look at it before realizing he left his clothes on the bed, rushes back out. Jean gathers up his outfit, hugging it to his chest, while Nino holds up his own shirt, still in the towel. 

He’s got those soft little lines at his hips, arrows inviting the gaze down. He’s not exactly muscular, but he’s still athletically built. Jeans tears his eyes away and heads back into the bathroom, shutting the door a little too loudly. He drops his clothes onto the floor and sinks down to sit on the edge of the tub. 

What a cruel joke. 

He locks the door, probably unnecessarily, before showering. It  _ is _ a nice bathroom, and the shower is nothing to scoff at, with gold accents and a glass door. The tub against the other wall is lovely as well, gold faucets and a shining white surface, but Jean doesn’t have the time now. Maybe when they get back from their dinner. He is distracted while showering, to say the least. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo and his mind wanders to the image of Nino now burned into his mind. 

Nino in a towel. Nino  _ without _ a towel. 

Jean feels a little thrill shoot down his spine, for once his back not burning with pain, but this is not the time. It will  _ never _ be the time to think about Nino naked, not while Jean is just trying to be friends. Still, Jean can feel where Nino’s hand had been on his stomach, and it makes him want to return that touch– trace those little lines.

In a desperate attempt to calm down, Jean turns the water cold. The sudden ice raining down on him straightens his posture and he wrenches the faucet back to warm. Curse this distraction. Nino deserves a better friend. 

After Jean gets dressed, Nino is waiting for him, looking dapper in a black turtleneck, the motorcycle boots exchanged for more modest dress shoes. He flashes a smile at Jean. 

“Ready?”

Jean nods, returning the smile. He can’t help it. 

“Off we go,” Nino says, taking the lead. They find the meeting place for their little group of students, everyone seated in the dining room of the inn. Every table in the room is taken up with the same configuration of a couple of teachers and a handful students. Jean quickly scans the room before taking a seat beside Lotta, who immediately starts talking to him about how nice the place is. 

Jean is about to respond when movement catches his eye. Eider is waving at him from a few tables over. She beams. Jean gives a small wave back before Eider’s classmate rolls their eyes and pulls her attention back. 

“Chief, she found you!” Moz says, dramatically slapping her hands on the table.

“Who’s that?” Nino asks, looking over at Eider’s table.

“A girl I met in Famasu,” Jean explains, telling Nino about their choir trip. 

“She totally has a crush on Jean,” Moz says. 

Jean tilts his head to the side. “I think she just respects me.”

Moz frowns and reaches over Lotta to pat Jean on the head. “Sure, that too.”

“But…” Jean looks over at Eider’s table again. She is smiling very wide, listening to her teachers explain something. 

When Jean thinks about a crush, he thinks about himself. He thinks about himself thinking about Nino. How Nino has helped him. How Jean likes talking to Nino, likes looking at Nino, just  _ likes _ Nino. Wonders if he’ll get to see more of his friend, hopes for conversations and texts, secretly trying to stare at his lips, and picturing him naked.

“No,” Jean decides. “She can’t have a crush on me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Chief,” Moz’s voice is pitying. 

Jean folds his hands into his lap. “She doesn’t know me well enough.” 

“She doesn’t have to,” Nino says, eyeing his water glass before picking it up for a sip. “Doesn’t take long to figure out you’re a catch.”

“Yeah, you’re a great guy,” Moz chimes in. 

Jean doesn’t process what she's said. His mind snags on Nino’s words. 

_ So catch me _ .

“You were actually, y’know, listening to her when she spoke,” Moz goes on. “And you’re cute and talented. Duh, she has a crush on you. Plus everyone likes a guy with a good voice.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this girl?” Lotta demands.

Jean starts to laugh, despite himself. “Lotta, there was nothing to tell. She’s a nice person, and that’s about all I could say. I’m not about to pursue her.”

Nino makes a small, nearly inaudible noise as he sips more water. Jean wants to ask him about it but their teachers start talking about the day ahead of them. His attention is drawn away, and before he knows it, they are boarding small vans to take them to their destination. For some reason, Jean has knots in his stomach. He stares out the window as the palace comes into view. 

He has seen so many pictures and videos of this place, he hardly thought there would be anything special in seeing it with his own eyes. That being said, it feels like something is rising in his chest. He touches his fingers to his mouth, gaze glued to the beautiful structure. Still in the style of when it was built decades and decades ago, there is a harshness in the spires and towers, cut by the lovingly cultivated greenery surrounding it. Impressive, to say the least. 

Getting out of the van, Jean stares up at the massive walls and the guards and the door to the palace. 

“You look like you’ve been electrocuted,” Nino whispers. 

Jean angles his head toward Nino, not breaking eye contact with the front doors. “It’s just so much.”

“Ever think about living in a place like this?” Nino asks. “You know, if you could.”

Jean finally looks at his friend again, curiosity heavy in Nino’s gaze. “That would be a rather long commute to school.”

Nino starts to smile. “What if you went to school here?”

Jean shrugs. “I can’t leave Lotta behind.”

“And if Lotta were with you?” Nino presses. 

Jean sticks his hands in his pockets, heart constricting. “Who would watch old movies with me?”

“Hm,” Nino mirrors his casual pose. “You’d probably have servants who would bring you only the finest of dated films.”

“I hear servants aren’t much for company,” Jean counters, lifting his head up. “I’d rather hang out with someone who isn’t getting paid to hang out with me. Besides, they’d never let your motorcycle boots stomp around these nice floors and I’ve taken a liking to them. They make a nice sound.”

Nino laughs as they come to a stop in front of the main doors. Each group is told to stay together, and everyone presses in closer. Jean’s arm brushes up against Nino’s and Nino makes no move to separate them. The groups are all paired with a tour guide from the palace and then they are brought inside, one group at a time. 

The palace is beautiful, if not a touch gaudy. Not exactly Jean’s style, though Lotta and Moz are clearly impressed. As they walk further in, the group naturally breaks into sets of two with Jean and Nino in the back. Jean tries to split his attention between Lotta, their tour guide, and Nino. It doesn’t work very well, and he eventually tells himself to get over it and stop waiting for the next time his sleeve will brush against Nino’s. 

Once past the entryway, the groups are shown around the many public halls of the palace, including an art gallery with portraits of the royal family. Jean was never one for art like this, but Lotta turns and grabs Jean’s arms, pointing at one of them. 

“She looks like mom,” she whispers. 

Jean turns, admiring the painting of the young Princess Schnee before she passed away. Lotta’s not wrong, she does bear striking resemblance to their mother. He stops walking, the gaze of this portrait rooting him to the spot. His mother never liked to talk about her childhood. Whenever he or Lotta or even their father would ask her, she would turn it into a joke.  _ I left my home behind because I wanted you all to have a better life than I did. No corsets for you lot.  _ She was from Suitsu, the most traditional district, and Jean always got the impression that she had been stifled by her surroundings. She had to cut ties with her family entirely, because they were unhappy with her choice to leave and pursue a different kind of life. 

Does he have family in Suitsu? Would they be upset to see him? 

“Jean,” Nino’s voice is soft. He places his hand on Jean’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “They’re going to leave us behind.”

Jean blinks, mumbles an apology and lets Nino guide him back. 

“It’s okay,” Nino says. “It’s a haunting picture.”

“Is it just me, or did she look kind of sad?” Jean asks.

Nino glances behind them. “Maybe…” 

The rest of the tour is fairly uneventful, until they are brought to the dining room to have lunch. Jean is seated between Nino and Lotta and both of them lean in to ask him how his back is. It makes Jean laugh. 

“I’ve got nothing to fear with you two around,” he says. 

“Way to ignore the question,” Lotta responds, eyes on Nino.

Nino grins. “He’s avoiding us, Lotta. Should we be concerned?”

Lotta nods dramatically. “Call a doctor, quick.”

Jean laughs again, grabbing both of them by the wrist, trapping their arms against their chairs. “I’ll be fine. Don’t cause a scene.”

“I’ve always wanted to cause a scene,” Nino sighs. “This would have been the perfect place for it.”

Lotta swats at Jean’s hand. “I’m trying to look dignified.”

He releases her and, less urgently, pulls his hand away from Nino. For a moment he feels obvious and fights the instinct to apologize, knowing that would only drawn attention to himself. So he ignores it, keeping his gaze on the empty plate in front of him. A smartly dressed woman with a lovely shade of pastel pink hair goes down the line of people, handing out little menus explaining their options for food, and then circles around to take their orders. When she gets to Jean, he asks if they have hot tea.

She smiles. “Yes, black, green, or white teas are available.”

“White tea?” Jean asks. “Is it willow?”

She nods, looking impressed. “Yes, white willow is a favorite of the King’s.”

“It’s also a favorite of mine,” Jean says. “I’d love to have some.”

“Excellent.” She makes a note on his order and moves on. Jean wonders at the coincidence of this occurrence, until he realizes that if white willow is, in fact, something used for pain relief, maybe the King himself used it when his wings were coming in. It is an oddly comforting thought. 

The rest of the day passes with ease, probably helped by the tea. Jean is at ease, especially when Nino occasionally grabs onto his arm to point something out. At one point, Nino tugs on his sleeve to gesture to a rather grand view from the window. 

“A guy could get use to a view like that,” Nino says, a glint in his eye. 

Jean smirks. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“‘Course not,” Nino reassures him. “Maybe I just think you deserve a castle.”

“If I deserve one,” Jean says, turning away from the window. “Then you deserve two.”

Chuckling, Nino follows behind Jean, close enough to be a comfortable shadow. 

The tour comes to a close and school group is paired with a member of the royal advisory to have a question and answer session. It’s supposed to be in regards to careers and aspirations and the inner workings of the political side of Dōwā.

Emissary Mauve strides into the room with Jean and Nino and Lotta, taking a seat facing the group. Their chairs are in a circle so they can all see each other. She gives a small wave and an introduction. 

“I’m Mauve, and it’s nice to meet you all. I’m sure you are at least vaguely familiar with me, but I’ll give you the speech anyway. As emissary, I act as an ambassador between the 13 districts and the royal palace, bringing word from one to the other and vice versa. I attend council meetings with political leaders of each district and I am their voice here in the palace. I work most closely with Advisor Grossular and Advisor Lilium, helping them to shape policy with every district in mind, which they then bring to the King. I’m more than happy to answer any questions you might have for me. I hear you’re a very talented bunch of young people, some of you with interests in becoming politicians yourselves. Allow me to help you as best I can.”

A few of the students ask basic questions about the palace and Mauve’s life. They are casual and Mauve makes them laugh a few times. Jean is oddly entranced by her, but he finds he has nothing to say, really. At one point, Nino raises his hand. 

“Yes, and your name?” Mauve prompts.

“I’m Nino,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

She smiles, warm. “You as well. What’s your question?”

“Well… maybe it’s too personal but… how’s the King?” Nino asks. 

She gives a little start, but the warmth returns quickly. “Oh. Well, that’s nice of you to be concerned. He’s been doing alright for the past couple of months. Everyone cross your fingers for a potential visit this evening. He’d really like to meet some of you. As you know, he’s very invested in the up-and-coming young people who might one day work with his family.”

Nino sits back in his seat, looking satisfied. 

Mauve looks around the room, and then her gaze settles on Jean, who feels like he’s being investigated. 

“You’ve been awfully quiet. MayI ask your name?”

Jean does his best to compose himself. “Jean Otus.”

Her head tilts just so and she gives a big smile. “Very nice to meet you, Jean. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Honestly, no,” Jean says, giving a chuckle. “I feel sort of inadequate, to be honest.”

She chuckles. “Well, you made me laugh.”

Jean smiles. “Is there room for humor in politics?”

“Of course,” Mauve says. She touches her chin, thoughtful. “I should have had Grossular come with me. He could always use a good joke.”

Jean feels proud. “I’d be happy if you passed along the encounter.”

She nods. “I will. Thank you, Jean.”

When they break again, it is to head back to the inn to change for their dinner, and so Nino can get his camera–  _ as official press representative for the school, it’s very important _ , Nino reminds Jean. The two of them take turns in the bathroom, emerging in their finery. When Nino steps out in all black, he pats Jean’s shoulder. “You look sharp.”

“Thanks,” Jean tries to keep things smooth. “You too. But…”

“Yeah?” Nino asks, eyebrow raised.

Jean holds his head up high. “The turtleneck works well for you.”

Nino’s little laugh is smokey enough to make Jean want a cigarette. He feels twitchy on the way back over, hardly able to keep from staring at Nino. His friend’s ability to adapt to any situation and make it look natural is amazing. 

The students are brought together for dinner in a large, open hall lined with displays of food and high tables to stand at. Everyone is encouraged to mingle with both other students and Dōwā officials. They are told this could be a time to forge lifelong connections. 

Eider finds Jean fairly quickly. 

“Good to see you, Jean,” she says, beaming in a nice black dress. 

Jean wonders again at Moz’s accusation of a crush. Could it be true?

“Hey,” Jean responds. 

Nino leans over to Jean and quietly tells him, “I’m going to grab some food. Be back.”

Jean holds his tongue as Nino walks away, hands in his pockets, instead of asking for him to stay like he wants.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eider asks. “This place is right out of a movie.”

“It’s definitely grand,” Jean says, feeling unbearably awkward all of a sudden. Does Eider think Jean is attractive? Does Jean think  _ she’s _ attractive? What is he supposed to do in this kind of situation?

Eider takes a quick little breath in and out. “I’m going to get right to what I wanted to tell you.”

Jean’s face starts to burn. 

“I put in for a transfer to Bādon,” she says in a rush. “I’m waiting to hear back to see if I can start next term.”

Jean almost lets out a sigh of relief, having expected something more personal. He smiles. “That’s great for you.”

“I was hoping… well I have a visit coming up, to tour the school. Uhm.” She looks at the floor. “Maybe we could hang out?”

“Sure,” Jean says, still recovering from his thankfully incorrect assumption. 

Eider looks back up at him again. “Great! Maybe I could get your number? That way I can let you know when I’m in town.”

Jean thinks nothing of exchanging numbers with her. Eider smiles. “I was just really inspired by what you said. I want to be able to do something  _ more _ than what Famasu offers. Not that I don’t like my hometown…”

“Of course not,” Jean fills in for her. “But Bādon has more opportunities, I understand. Are you worried at all about leaving friends behind?”

She shrugs. “No. Truthfully, I don’t have that many friends back home. I think the other kids get tired of me too easily. I’m… I guess I’m kind of a teacher’s pet.”

“I understand that,” Jean says with a small laugh. “I think I’m the same way.”

“Do you not get along with your classmates?” she asks, staring up at him.

“Not quite like that,” Jean tries to explain. “I just think I get along with teachers better.”

“Probably because you’re so smart,” she says. “You were telling me before how you’re in a lot of senior classes.”

Jean looks away from Eider, feeling a little dumb. “I suppose so. I always chalked it up to restlessness.”

Eider laughs. “Maybe that’s part of it, but your school has to think you’ll handle the extra work.”

Jean spots Nino across the way. He’s been caught up into a conversation with someone that Jean can’t quite see with the crowd in the way. As the people mill about, he catches sight of long white hair and blinks. Advisor Grossular is standing next to Nino in front of a large window. He can’t see their faces. 

Eider follows his gaze. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see Advisor Grossular here. He always seems so serious. No time for this kind of thing, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jean nods absently, emotion piquing inside his chest. He turns away quickly in time to see a few guards enter the room. One of them clears her throat pointedly and calls out in a proud voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, if you please. We’d like to welcome Prince Schwann and King Falke the Second.”

Eider makes a small little noise of surprise and turns around to see. The Prince enters first, expression bored, gaze lazily wandering around the room, probably not taking anything in. Everyone in the room bows in his direction. Still, the Prince looks like a child who’s been forced to share a birthday party with someone else. He goes to stand by the windows and then everyone is looking back toward the door. 

King Falke isn’t smiling, but his eyes carry something light. He looks happy to be here, happy to see these people in his home. His wings aren’t out. Jean remembers something from a history book, or maybe an interview, about how the wings react to your health and your mood. Since the King has been sick for a while now, perhaps he can’t bring them out. 

As everyone gives a second, much lower bow, the King waves his hand, playing at flattered. “Now, now,” he says, still able to project his voice through the whole room. “This night is about you. Enjoy yourselves, and if it’s possible, don’t mind me.”

Laughter carries through the room for a few seconds, before the guards stand at ease and people resume their conversations.

“They’re so…” Eider struggles to find a word, her shoulders dropping. “Royal.”

Jean looks around the room to find Lotta. Her eyes are wide, hand over her mouth, completely starstruck. Both the Prince  _ and _ the King, here to meet and greet– a good day for her. It makes Jean smile to know that she’s having a nice time. She and Moz start talking in excited whispers. Lotta glances over at Jean and tries to subtly point at the Prince. Jean starts laughing at her and so she scurries over to him. 

“Jean, oh my goodness, look!” 

“What a handsome boy,” Moz says, staring at Schwann. 

“It’s just so awesome to be in the same place as them. Our King, and our future King. Wow,” she stares again for a moment before turning to Eider and extending a hand. “Oh! Hi! I’m Jean’s sister, Lotta.”

Eider smiles warmly and takes Lotta’s hand. “Very nice to meet you, Lotta. I’m Eider.”

“I know,” Lotta says, something clearly implied in her voice. 

“I’m going to grab some food,” Jean says quickly and leaves before anyone can drag him back. 

As he walks over to the buffet table, the huge piles of food staring him down, Nino comes up behind him.

“My god, are you one of the Royals?” 

Jean turns and smirks at his friend. “Why, yes, I am.”

“I knew it,” Nino says, putting the camera to his face. “Say aged, sharp white cheddar.”

“Cheese,” Jean responds, unable to hide a half smile. 

_ Click. _ Nino looks triumphant, turning back to the room. “Hey, Lotta made a friend.”

“Yeah, she and Moz are getting along great,” Jean says. 

“ _ Look _ ,” Nino urges, so Jean does. 

The King himself is standing at her little table. Lotta is talking quickly to him, smiling, and the King smiles back, nodding along. Nino strides over, closing the distance quickly, and Jean trails behind. 

“Excuse me,” Nino says to them both. “I hate to interrupt, but I wondered if I could take a picture.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” the King says. 

“This is my brother, Jean,” Lotta says. She reaches forward and takes Jean’s arm. “Let’s get a picture, the three of us.”

“Oh, uh, if you insist,” Jean stammers as Lotta pulls him over. 

The three of them stand together, Lotta in the middle of Jean and the King. Nino snaps a few photos, and Jean tries his best not to look too uncomfortable. It’s still so surreal that they are even here, let alone taking photos with the King himself. 

“Thanks so much,” Nino says, lowering his camera.

“Of course,” the King says, sounding genuinely pleased. “It was so lovely to meet you, Lotta, and your friends and family as well.”

Lotta bows, which causes everyone else to bow as well. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jean says. “Both for the meeting, and for offering white willow tea.”

A smile spreads over the King’s face. He leans down toward Jean. “I have the leaves specially imported. It’s my favorite.”

“Yes, it’s become mine too,” Jean says. 

“I used it as a young man when the wings were coming in,” he confirms, gesturing behind him with his hand. “Works wonders for us, though I’ve been told it’s just an old wives’ tale for anyone without feathers. Nothing more than delicious tea.”

Jean almost laughs, wondering at the possibility that he’s just been hoping so strongly for pain relief that he’s convinced himself it works. “I suppose the placebo effect can be almost as good as regular medicine.”

“Ah, very true,” the King agrees. “The power of belief and the will of the mind. Thank you for your time, Jean Otus. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

The King smiles and moves on to another group. The three girls start to discuss immediately. Jean steps away, closer to Nino, glad the moment is over. 

“I’m ready to go home now,” Jean says. 

Nino chuckles. “You should eat something first. Come on.”

They step away from the group, back to the food. Nino elbows Jean gently. “So, Eider?”

Jean shrugs. “She sure is a person.”

Nino elbows him with more intent. “Come on. She’s cute, right?”

Jean feels a strange pit opening up in his stomach as they both take plates. “I suppose she’s not unattractive.”

“What a gentleman,” Nino gives a laugh. “I take it she’s not your type.”

“Not as anything more than a friend,” Jean answers. 

“Duly noted,” Nino says. “I was going to offer you my services as a wingman, but this is way easier.”

They move down the line of food, mostly just admiring the sheer volume of options. Jean tells himself that Nino is just being a good friend, and that Nino isn’t relieved that Jean isn’t interested in Eider, just making fun of him. When they have their food all set, they head back to the table with Lotta, Eider, and Moz, but Jean feels someone is staring at him. His gaze snaps up to see the Prince quickly turning away. 

The girls leave Jean and Nino to get food for themselves, and Jean and Nino eat, talking about nothing much. Nino snaps a few more pictures of the room. 

“What were you speaking to Advisor Grossular about?” Jean asks. “I noticed you two by the window.”

“Oh, yeah, he saw my camera and wanted to ask me about it. I got the feeling someone was making him come by and he felt obligated to talk to at least one of the students. I was just nearby.”

Jean nods, searching the room again for the long white hair, but it seems that Grossular has already left the room. Jean finds the Prince again, this time staring at someone else, shock in his gaze. Jean tries to follow his line of sight, and for all intents and purposes, he appears to be staring at Lotta. When Jean looks back at the Prince, he is talking to his blue-haired attendant, eyes on the window.

A strange night indeed.


	8. i'm super sorry everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is not an update

Dear you lovely readers,   
I'm very sorry that this fic is basically dead. I've been basically dead for the last three months. I've been sick for a while now and it was impossible to work up the nerve to write until recently and I can't force myself to go back to something that isn't 100% attention catching right now. I'm in a rather unstable place, both physically and mentally, and so this fic has fallen to the very back of the To Do List, and for that, I am very very sorry.   
I do love ACCA still, and in this AO3 silence, I did actually (by the skin of my teeth) contribute to the anthology Crown and Crow. It's a short piece but the whole book seems like it's going to be real cool, so check that out if you can. 

But yeah.... I'M SORRY! Life happens and people get run down and stories fade away, and it sucks. I just couldn't stand leaving this here without any kind of words for anyone who still cares. I hope you accept my message and have a lovely day.

Thanks,  
Oodles

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the conversation had during the flashback episode about Princess Schnee and metaphorically clipping her wings. Thank you for reading. Beta'd by [kavsdick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kavsdick)!
> 
> @oodleswrites  
> I do fic commissions!
> 
> This fic has been rated M for content that has been written but not yet posted so apologies for any misunderstanding, bear with me. It is both for scenes of intense pain/graphic wound depiction and for the pairing. I just tried to save myself trouble in the future as far as forgetting which parts had the content and which didn't. Sorry if it is annoying anyone!


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